No Regrets
by angel718
Summary: Blaine stared at him for a split second, and then practically lunged at him, already instinctively wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist to pull him closer.
1. French Food and Flirting

**Author's Note: This is born of how utterly adorable I find the whole Kurt/Blaine interaction after they confront Karofsky. Adorable, and heartwrenching, and just beautiful. So I wanted to expand on it, and apparently, they agreed with me. Because this got a _lot _longer than I intended it to be. I hope you like it!**

**Oh, and just so you know, at at least one point, this references my other Glee fic, but you don't have to have read it to understand. (I mean, if you want to check it out, though, I'm certainly not going to stop you. :))**

"Well, he's not coming out anytime soon," Blaine joked lightly, eyebrows shooting up as he watched the retreating form of Kurt's main tormentor, one Dave Karofsky. But Kurt, instead of laughing, let out a quiet sigh and sagged onto the cold cement as though he couldn't bear to hold himself up any longer. "What's going on?" he asked gently, concerned by the other boy's reaction. Kurt just lowered his head, looking so small and scared that Blaine wondered if it was possible for your heart to break for someone you'd only known for two days. "Why're you so upset?" he pressed, crossing over to Kurt quickly and joining him on the step.

Kurt took a deep breath, steeling himself. "...because up until yesterday, I had never been kissed." To his horror, his voice cracked just a little, and he swallowed hard against the lump that threatened to take over his throat. "Or at least...one that counted." It didn't make him feel much better to admit it out loud, and he sniffed deeply and glanced toward the sky, the better to avoid Blaine's penetrating, pitying gaze. Because if he had to look at him now, he was going to lose it even more.

Blaine, meanwhile, was attempting to reconcile himself to the fact that Kurt-bright, vibrant, confident Kurt-had actually gone so long without someone realizing how wonderful he was, and kissing him. And the fact that that _oaf _had been the one to take that moment away...he breathed in deeply and shook his head, pressing his lips together. Freaking out was not going to help the situation. And as much as he regretted it...there was nothing he could do about it now. It was his stupid advice that had gotten Kurt into this situation, and he was going to do whatever he damn well could to make it up to him. "Come on." Blaine nudged Kurt's shoulder lightly, smiling as brightly as he could in the hopes that doing so would cheer him up. "I'll buy you lunch."

Kurt's lips twitched up in the corners just a little, and he pulled himself to his feet to follow Blaine's lead. They had barely traveled a few feet, though, before he spoke. "Where are you going? The cafeteria's _inside_ the school, remember?" Blaine laughed, relieved by Kurt's weak display of sarcasm.

"We're not eating in the cafeteria. After all your comments about your school food, I don't want to put you through it if it's not absolutely necessary." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he fought a smile. "I'm taking you somewhere real. Any preferences?"

Kurt's eyes were round, his too-pale face finally starting to regain a bit of its usual color. "You are?"

"Unless you don't want to," he amended hastily, sending a silent prayer to whoever may have been listening that that wouldn't be the case.

"No, no, I want to," Kurt blurted out, before he could even worry about sounding too eager; Blaine graced him with a charming smile that made his heart skip a beat.

"I'm parked this way," he said, placing his hand ever-so-lightly on the small of Kurt's back to guide him.

Kurt's breath caught at the contact, simple though it was. Maybe _because _of how simple it was. He couldn't remember the last time a guy had touched him so casually. Of course, Mercedes hugged him all the time, and Brittany would hold hands and cuddle with pretty much anyone. But with guys...it just never happened. Finn _lived _with him, for Christ's sake (or whatever), and he could count the number of times they'd come into any kind of physical contact in the past month on one hand. But Blaine...Blaine was different. Warmer.

If he noticed Kurt's preoccupation, he was too polite to say anything more than, "Hey, this is me," as they reached his car.

Kurt halted, jaw dropping. "Blaine, this is a Ferrari."

He blushed and dropped his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um. Yes. Yes it is."

"Holy _crap," _Kurt breathed unthinkingly. "I'm kind of afraid to touch it."

Blaine's head snapped up so quickly he gave himself a head rush. Uncomfortable!Kurt was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. The boy felt out of place at his own _school_. The last thing Blaine wanted was to make him feel bad because his parents happened to have enough money to give their son a Ferrari when he got his license. (His desperation to make Kurt feel safe with him, of course, meant that he was starting to overthink everything. He could see Wes and David's matching disapproving frowns in his mind's eye. It was actually rather frightening.) "No, please," he exclaimed. "Don't be." Inspiration struck in a flash, and he smirked. "Besides, you'll have to touch it. If you don't, I'm going to come over there and do it for you." True, he hadn't known Kurt long at all, but he'd seen enough to know that the boy was fiercely independent, and that this, therefore, was probably not going to be an attractive prospect.

Color flooded Kurt's cheeks, and he let out an absolutely adorable half-laugh. "I'm almost tempted to test you on that," he joked, but got into the car of his own volition anyway. "You'd be the one example of chivalry left in Ohio."

"I'd have done it and you know it," Blaine shot back, grinning. "Oh, and you can plug your iPod in if you want, or pick a station or whatever." He fussed with his seat unnecessarily, just for something to do. For some reason or another (the combined Wes/David voice that lived in his head cackled mischievously), he was actually feeling kind of nervous. Which, really, was just ridiculous. This was nothing. He just...wanted to make Kurt feel better. Wanted to be a good friend, especially considering that this was partly his fault. That was all. (Shut _up_, Wevid.)

"Are you sure?" Kurt was asking uncertainly, twisting the cord of his headphones around his fingers so tightly that the tips were turning purple. "I mean, I don't want to break anything."

Blaine reached over and gently untangled the wire, trying not to think about how veryveryclose this brought him to Kurt; trying not to read nonexistent meaning into Kurt's shallow, slightly rapid breathing; tryingtryingtryingfailing. "Careful," he murmured, gathering the courage (God, how ironic) to squeeze Kurt's hand lightly as he freed the iPod from his grasp. "Circulation's a good thing."

"Noted," Kurt managed, hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt.

"You sure you don't care where we go?" Now that he was busily plugging in the iPod, having correctly guessed that no matter what he said, the other boy had no intention of doing so, Blaine was able to actually think clearly enough to articulate his thoughts.

Patti LuPone's voice flooded the car, and Blaine watched with a combination of amusement and wonder as Kurt visibly relaxed at the familiar sound. "Nope, no preference."

"We probably shouldn't go far, though, huh?" Blaine mused, pulling out of the parking lot. "What do you have after lunch?"

"I have a free period," Kurt offered, sounding almost hopeful and grinning shyly.

"Oh! Awesome!" Blaine fairly beamed. "David says there's a really good place about twenty minutes from here, if you don't mind the drive." Not, y'know, that he'd desperately grilled everyone for restaurant ideas the night before or anything.

"I don't mind at all. That sounds great." _It'll keep me away from McKinley for a few extra minutes if nothing else_. Not to mention...well, no. He wasn't even going to let himself go there in his mind. He did let himself sneak another peek at Blaine, who was smiling slightly as he drove.

They hadn't been driving long before the opening strains of "Teenage Dream" piped through the speakers. Blaine turned his head just enough to notice Kurt quickly turn to stare studiously out the window so that Blaine couldn't see his face. Blaine's own cheeks burned as he remembered Wes and David's obnoxious comments (on a _public forum_, no less) about the only reason Blaine liked the song (which, okay, may or may not have had a lot/everything to do with having met Kurt that day). The other boy seemed just as embarrassed as he felt, if not more so, so Blaine decided the best thing to do to dispel the awkwardness would be to pretend it didn't exist. Instead, he opened his mouth and began to sing along, ironically picking up right where the Warblers' arrangement that Kurt had heard the other day had started. "Before you met me, I was alright, but things were kinda heavy. You brought me to life. Now every February, you'll be my Valentine."

Kurt grinned despite himself, raised his head and chimed in, soft but audible, weaving a descant over Blaine's melody that the older boy was fairly sure was his new favorite sound. "You're amazing," he admitted sincerely when the song had ended. "The others would kill me for saying this, but you're a better countertenor than ours. I'm kind of jealous."

Kurt laughed outright, and Blaine realized (as his heart sputtered hyperactively at the sound) that he'd never heard it before. "Oh, please, stop with the flattery. You barely heard me."

"So sing something else," Blaine challenged, lifting an eyebrow. "I guarantee you I won't change my mind."

"Is that a dare, Mr. Anderson?" There was a chuckle in Kurt's voice, but his eyes were serious.

"And what if it is?" His heart was still beating a little too fast, and he couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't tread very carefully, he would say something stupid and send this new, happier Kurt running for cover.

Instead, an absolutely wicked grin bloomed on the other boy's face. "The Rachel Berry that occasionally forces her way into my head is screaming at me about spies and telling me this is a terrible idea. Which is exactly why I'm going to do it."

He laughed. "Rachel Berry?"

"Our soloist."

He'd known, of course. Mr. Matthews had found the New Directions' youtube channel as soon as he'd gotten the information about sectionals, and the petite brunette's name was all over it. But admitting to that level of stalkage, teacher-approved or no, would have been outright creepy.

"Eh, whatever," Kurt continued, wrinkling his nose. "I typically avoid doing anything I think Rachel would do. Also, I trust you, so..."

He didn't even know how to respond to that. So instead, he filed it away for later analysis, waited until the song started to play, and then blinked, surprised. "Defying Gravity?"

"It's my favorite," Kurt shrugged blithely.

It took less than a minute for Blaine's opinion to be confirmed. The boy had the voice of an angel. Simple fact. And then...oh, _God_, and then he got to the end, and Blaine forgot how to breathe. The high F floated, bell-like, clear, and absolutely ethereal, through the car, somehow seeming to go on forever and not nearly long enough at the same time.

And when it was over...thankfully, Blaine had somehow managed to pull into the parking lot of the restaurant and successfully park while Kurt had been singing, so he could just collapse against his seat, wide-eyed, and breathe, "My _God_, Kurt."

His eyes (bluer today than Blaine remembered them being) were impossibly wide. "So...yeah."

"You..." Bemused, Blaine shook his head wet-dog style, trying to regain the ability to think coherently. "Did you actually think that would _change my mind_?"

The tiniest of smirks crossed the other's lips. "Not really."

"Explain to me why you don't sing more solos?" Or, well, _any_, Blaine's ever-helpful mind pointed out.

Kurt blinked as though surprised by the question and climbed out of the car. (Right. Duh. Can't just sit in the parking lot all day.) "Because that's not the way Mr. Shue does things." He made a face. "He rarely chooses anything that really fits my voice. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mean to complain. I love glee club, but...you know."

"I would think he would be showcasing your talent," Blaine protested hotly, instinctively holding the restaurant door open for Kurt. "Countertenors as good as you are rare, especially in the high school circuit."

"Thanks." He brushed his hair off his forehead unconsciously.

"Two, please?" Blaine added, flashing the hostess with a grin that almost made her fall over, and she hurried to get them their menus.

When they had been seated (in a deliciously cozy corner booth-really must remember to thank David later), the conversation resumed. "I did audition for the 'Defying Gravity' solo," Kurt admitted, fiddling with his menu, "back when we thought we were doing it for sectionals last year. But I didn't get it."

"I doubt she was better than you." Blaine spoke without thinking, and at Kurt's surprised grin, simply shrugged. "That wasn't really supposed to come out. But it _is_ true."

When Kurt's eyes lit up, Blaine couldn't help but wonder how often the boy got complimented. Certainly not as often as he deserved. "Well, she wasn't, really. But...I threw the competition. I cracked the F."

"What?" Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "Why? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want-"

"It's okay," Kurt interrupted, taking a tiny sip from his water glass. "It was-"

"What can I get you?" a petite redhead paused at their table, pad and pen at the ready and utterly oblivious to the conversation she'd just interrupted. "Drinks, maybe an appetizer to start?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt, silently inviting him to go first. "Water's fine."

"Same," Blaine confirmed. "Kurt, did you see any appetizers you wanted or anything?"

"Ah...not unless you want one?" Truthfully, he hadn't even started to look at his menu. It sat open in front of him, otherwise untouched, because he'd been so wrapped up in talking to Blaine that he'd completely forgotten about its existence. _Oh, well_.

"I think we're alright for now, thank you," Blaine told the woman smoothly, and she beamed at him.

"Okay. Well, just give me a holler if either of you needs anything. My name's Marianne, by the way."

"You were saying?"

"Oh, right." Kurt bit his lip, tracing random patterns in the tablecloth and avoiding Blaine's eyes. "It was, um. Mr. Shue was just going to give the solo to Rachel, because that's what usually happens, but like I said, 'Defying Gravity' is one of my favorite songs, so I got kind of...frustrated. And long story short, my dad ended up coming to school to yell at Mr. Shue for, well...discriminating. Which it wasn't, exactly. But I was upset, and I'd kind of made it sound that way."

"But it wasn't fair, either," Blaine pointed out gently, because Kurt seemed to regret the whole situation, and it really did sound like the New Directions director had been behaving entirely unreasonably.

"So I got to audition," Kurt continued, apparently ignoring Blaine's interjection. "We were going to have a diva-off, and I was really excited about it, because I knew I had a chance. A lot of people hate that Rachel gets all the leads, and I knew I could sing it just as well as she could. Or better." He was speaking on autopilot now, just letting the words pour out because it was such a relief to be able to say all this to someone who would understand what it had been like for him. Someone who would be able to relate to the choice he'd made, who would know why he'd had to make it.

"And then my dad got a phone call. I was absolutely giddy because I'd been practicing, and I knew I had all the notes. So I ran in, obliviously babbling away, and he was trying really hard to look like he cared, and like he was happy for me. But...he's terrible at hiding his feelings, especially from me. I've been taking care of my dad for years, Blaine. I knew something was bothering him, even though he tried not to tell me what it was at first."

The waitress reappeared then, and Blaine, who was waiting with bated breath for the rest of the story, managed to send her away as politely as possible. "What happened, Kurt?"

"Someone called him while he was working at the garage, said, 'Your son's a fag' and hung up." Kurt shook his head. Even now, so many months later, the memory of his father's hurt, angry face cut just as deeply as it had the first time. He lifted his eyes from their contemplation of the table and met Blaine's steady, compassionate gaze. "I don't care if people say it to me. I'm used to it. I can deal with it. But my dad...he can't. It killed him inside, Blaine. And I knew...if I went through with the audition and I got the solo, it would only make things worse. So...I threw it."

His hands were trembling slightly, and Blaine instinctively covered them with his own. Kurt was _used _to abuse of that magnitude? _How? _For the love of God, how had things gotten so bad? Was no one paying any attention to what went on at that school?

But he drew a deep breath and pushed back his anger, because he could tell it wasn't what Kurt needed to see right now. "You know," he began carefully, not releasing the other boy's hands, "I knew you were strong from the first day I met you. And what you just told me...it proves it. You are...amazing, Kurt. You're inspiring." It was cheesy, maybe, but it was all Blaine could think of that would even begin to cover his emotions.

But Kurt shook his head. "I'm not. Not really. It's just a way to survive, Blaine. If I wasn't like this, I never would have made it this far."

"Don't talk like that. Don't downplay what you've been able to do." He allowed himself to smile, just a little. "Do you realize...God, I wish I had had a fraction of your fortitude. If I were in your situation...I'd never have lasted as long as you have. I _didn't."_

"No one should have to."

"You're right," he murmured, still regarding Kurt sympathetically.

"Have you made your decision?" Marianne's smile was still firmly in place as she bounced back over.

Kurt tore his eyes free and chose the first thing he saw on the menu. "I'll have the croque madame, please."

"I'd love the quiche Lorraine." Blaine smiled pleasantly.

When she had scurried off, clutching the menus, silence fell again. He wondered uncertainly if he should continue to pursue the conversation or if it would be better to change the subject, but as it turned out, he didn't have to worry about making that decision. "Can we stop dissecting my problems?" Kurt asked sheepishly. "I feel like every time I see you, it's all we end up doing because I'm always in the middle of some huge personal crisis."

"Of course! I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no!" Kurt blanched. "God, I didn't mean it _that _way. I meant..." he laughed self-deprecatingly, "It's just so good to be able to talk to somebody who gets it. I guess I get sort of carried away."

"I hope you don't think you've been any trouble," Blaine replied sternly. "Because it is _absolutely _not a big deal. I like talking to you."

"I like talking to you, too." He laughed nervously, twisting his napkin compulsively around his fingers. "So we should talk about you."

"Oh. Um. What did you want to know?"

"Anything. Anything you want to tell."

Blaine chuckled slightly, hesitantly. "I don't know. I'm really not that interesting."

"You are to me," Kurt confessed, trying to ignore his thudding heart. He lowered his eyes, cheeks pink.

"Hm. Well, I'm Blaine Anderson, and I enjoy irritating the hell out of my roommates with incessant guitar playing, the feel of wet sand between my toes, and classic literature. I'm allergic to cats (and I'm more of a dog person anyway). And...I'm really, incredibly, painfully bad at French." He beamed proudly, and Kurt promptly burst out laughing.

He doubled over, for once not bothering to care about what his hair looked like, or worry about what he'd have to face when he got back to McKinley. For now, it was more than enough to lose himself in the outright _joy _of this moment. He was still hysterical when the waitress arrived with their food, and he made a valiant effort to control himself, but it only resulted in him laughing even harder. She shot him an odd look and hurried away, which, of course, made Blaine crack up as well. When their mirth had finally subsided, Kurt dabbed lightly at his streaming eyes, wondering if his current case of perma-smile was ever going to go away, then deciding he didn't give a damn. "Whoo, I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

"Glad to be of service," Blaine quipped, trying a bite of his quiche. "Oh my God. I think David is my new favorite person."

Kurt daintily cut off a piece of his sandwich (something that David always taunted Blaine _mercilessly _for doing whenever he got that particular dish) and stuck it in his mouth. Blaine watched, spellbound, as the younger boy's eyes fluttered closed and he hummed delightedly. "Oh, wow. He's definitely toward the top of my list."

"Want to try mine?" Turning his plate so that Kurt could get to a piece that his mouth hadn't touched, Blaine pushed the food over (Kurt tried not to be disappointed).

"Mmm. Yeah, David's definitely in my top 20 favorite people list for telling you about this place." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smirked mischievously. "It amuses me endlessly that you like French cuisine, yet claim to be terrible at the language itself."

"I don't think you understand. There is no claiming, and _t__errible_ does not even begin to cover it. Wes takes it, too, and he spends insane amounts of hours trying to drill it into my head. And I'm still hopeless."

"I'd help you, if I were closer."

"Do you speak French?"

"I may or may not be fluent," Kurt admitted, offering Blaine a bite of his sandwich, which he accepted, and then proceeded to almost choke on as Kurt's words sunk in.

"You're _what?_"

"Fluent."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, sir."

Blaine smiled as enchantingly as possible (Kurt promptly forgot how to move). "Would you happen to have a skype, Kurt?"

"I would. I can't imagine why you would be wondering such a thing, Blaine."

"Certainly not because Wes has taken to refusing to help me lately and I fear for my French grade. Also, it absolutely has nothing to do with wanting to talk to you more often." _And wanting to be able to see your face, and hear your voice_

"Certainly not," Kurt echoed, giggling. An actual _giggle. _Blaine was pretty sure his heart almost exploded at the sheer adorableness of the sound. "But I may find you on there later. You know. Just because."

"I might accept you," Blaine responded, grinning uncontrollably. "Maybe."

"And I might be willing to help tutor you. If you ask nicely." Kurt was kind of stunned by his own daring, particularly considering the day's events, but what the hell.

Blaine's jaw went a little slack. _Be careful. Becarefulbecarefulbecareful. _"I think I'm capable of that," he answered finally.

"I'm sure you are," Kurt mumbled, almost inaudibly. He couldn't help wondering whether the other boy had meant for him to hear it. "Hey, do you have another eHarmony-esque mini-bio to give me? I still feel cheated."

"Kurt Hummel, I'm pretty sure _you're _the one who's cheating. I really don't know much about _you_. I know what you've been through, but I don't know _you_."

"Yes you do," the other boy protested, gesticulating wildly. "You know I'm fluent in French and am obsessed with food of that culture-well done on that, by the way. You know I'm obsessed with Patti LuPone and Wicked, that I'm pretty much the most epic bargain shopper ever."

"And that you're a terrible spy," Blaine teased.

"Yeah-hey!"

"Kurt, you were literally the only person in the entire school who wasn't wearing the Dalton blazer. It was kind of obvious."

"You suck," Kurt pouted, but his eyes were twinkling. "Whatever. I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"No you are not," Blaine answered promptly, beaming. "Perhaps we should just agree that neither of us knows nearly enough about the other, and that we should work on that?"

"I like that idea."

"Me too."

The conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, and before long the waitress was returning with the check. Kurt managed to sneak a peek before Blaine grabbed it, and reached reflexively for his wallet.

"Excuse you. What are you doing?"

Kurt froze, hand half in his pocket. "Getting my wallet?"

Blaine furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"To...pay for my food?"

"You are doing no such thing." He narrowed his eyes, playfully angry. "Unless I am very much mistaken, what I said was, 'I'll buy you lunch.' Which means that your wallet has no purpose at this table."

"Blaine, really-"

"_Kurt_," he stressed, now switching to his most irresistible pout. (Kurt choked on nothing at all.) "Please let me buy you lunch? Pretty please?"

"Nguh," the other managed. "Um."

"I'll take that as a yes!" Cheerfully, Blaine stuck a fifty into the flap and flagged the waitress. "No change."

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He glanced at his watch. "Shoot. Kurt, you ready?"

"You cheated!" Kurt accused suddenly, folding his arms stubbornly and refusing to stand.

"If it's that important to you, I'll let you get me next time." He fluttered his lashes exaggeratedly, privately thinking that if he was lucky enough for there to be a next time, he sure as hell wasn't going to let Kurt pay.

_Next time_? Kurt's mind seized those two words like a drowning man grabs a life raft. "S-sure," he stammered, wondering if it was possible that this whole afternoon had actually been a bizarrely vivid, unbelievably fantastic dream.

"Great. Now c'mon. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"I don't care," he blurted out, and Blaine laughed.

"I do. I'd like your friends not to hate me for stealing you."

_They'd never hate you. They know how happy you make me. _

"Oh, fine."

The entire ride home was spent with Kurt's iPod cranked, singing at the top of their lungs, and way too soon, Blaine was pulling back into the McKinley parking lot and both boys were regretfully getting out of the car.

"Thank you so much for lunch. And...everything else." Suddenly feeling bashful again, Kurt smiled at Blaine and clutched the strap of his bag. "I really, really appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure," Blaine assured him. "I mean, I know how hard it was for you to confront Karofsky, and of course I'd have preferred for that not to have been necessary, but I have to admit...I was glad to have the chance to spend more time with you."

"Me too." Kurt's smile lit his whole face, and Blaine couldn't resist temptation any longer.

He opened his arms, grinning hopefully. "Can I have a hug?"

Definitely a dream. There was no way someone as completely perfect as Blaine was _actually _grinning dopily at him, arms outstretched and eyes shining. And dammit, dream or not, Kurt was going to take advantage of this moment. "Of course." He sighed quietly, relaxing in the other boy's embrace. Being in Blaine's arms was...warm. Comfortable. It felt...right. _Can I just stay here forever?_

Blaine laughed quietly, and ohmyGod Kurt could feel his breath on the back of his neck and his heart beating up against his own chest and really, was this a hug or was it heaven? "Unfortunately, I think you should probably go to class. Not that I'd mind if we stayed like this for a while." _Crap. Too much?_

Kurt pulled away slightly, eyes huge and panicked. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Blaine smiled again. Kurt just seemed to have that effect on him-he didn't remember the last time he had smiled so much in only a few short hours. And with Wes and David as his best friends, that was saying something.

"Oh my GaGa, I'm so sorry." His face was going to burst into flame. Because there was absolutely no way he could survive humiliation like this with Blaine, dapper, beautiful, _perfect Blaine_, of all people.

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind."

"Well. Um. Thank you. Again." Because what else could he possibly say that wouldn't end up making this even worse?

"Like I said-any time. Also, for the record, I do intend to skype you sometime soon. Just so you know."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Kurt replied, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder and jumping slightly as the bell rang, shrill and obnoxious, across the parking lot. _Dammit._ "I think I have to go."

"I'll talk to you soon, Kurt."

"Bye, Blaine."

**The ending's a bit abrupt for my taste, but anything else I tried to come up with felt too forced. Aside from that, how'd I do? :)**


	2. Skype and Stepbrothers

**Author's Note: Oh my God, you guys, the amount of support I got on the first chapter of this humbled me like I can't even begin to describe. And I got so many requests to continue that I couldn't resist. :) Proof that I love you? I have to wake up in about 6.5 hours and tomorrow starts rush week. Which means that I'll barely be anywhere near my computer for days. But I really wanted to get this up for you all. :)**

**I don't really know what to say about this, soooo...read on, darlings!**

"White boy, where the hell have you been?" Mercedes demanded, folding her arms and leaning against Kurt's locker-and directly in his way. "You missed lunch _and _'study hall.'" She threw in air quotes around the last two words on long-since-polished instinct and fixed him with an 'out with it, bitch' stare. "I know you didn't get distracted by the latest _Vogue_ again, because you left it in my locker the other day."

"Ignoring the fact that a few weeks on the Cheerios taught me how to get into your locker even if I didn't know the combination..." (Mercedes let out an indignant squawk) "...it's not about that." Kurt couldn't have squashed the enormous grin that bloomed on his face if he'd wanted to (he didn't even try). "Blaine actually came and took me to lunch."

She lifted an eyebrow incredulously. " you to lunch."

"Yep." Too delighted to be fazed by her reaction, he gently hip-bumped her out of his way and began twirling his combination lock, only half paying attention to what he was doing.

"Blaine, like lead singer of the Warblers, 'Teenage Dream' _Blaine_ drove an hour and a half _one way _to take you to lunch."

Kurt's hand stilled for the briefest of moments, but he turned up the wattage of his smile even more so that she wouldn't notice his hesitation. Mentioning Karofsky would just kill his buzz, and hell to the _naw _was he going to let that happen. "Pretty much?"

"For real?" She narrowed her eyes. "If there is anything else to this story, you need to own it, white boy. Because I don't know if I buy the we're-just-friends thing, and I am so not okay with being out of the loop."

"We _are_! Mercedes!" He laughed, and even to his own ears, the sound was ridiculously giddy (but come on, would anyone really blame him? That would be a resounding _no_). "We've known each other for what, two days? Please."

"You look like you're about to float through the damn ceiling," she pointed out.

"You would, too, if you'd gotten out of this hellhole to eat French food with your completely adorable new friend," he retaliated breezily, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

"...good point. But you better tell me the minute something else happens, you hear me?"

_Oh, God, I wish. _"Nothing is going to happen."

"Yeah. _Okay_. Because I regularly sit my ass in a car for three hours just to see a dude I met two days ago. Promise me."

"Promise you _what?" _

She made a vaguely amused sound in the back of her throat. "That you'll tell me when your prep school boy finally admits he wants your body."

Kurt rolled his eyes and tried very, very hard not to think about the implications of Mercedes's words. Because seriously, if he allowed himself to do that (and he was _aching _to) he was probably never going to be able to think about anything else ever again. Ever. "Sure, babygirl. If, by some miracle of fate, that happens, you'll be the first to know. Now let's go, or we'll be late to glee and Rachel will never let us hear the end of it."

Blaine skidded through the door exactly five seconds before Warblers practice was supposed to start, flashing Wes an 'ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, and you can't get mad at me anyway because I'm technically not late yet' grin. Wes shot him an exasperated, yet somehow still entertained eye roll in response, and banged his gavel emphatically to call the rehearsal to order. "Where were _you_?" Jim Kale murmured, lifting a confused eyebrow. "The last time you were almost late to rehearsal, you ended up getting sent back to our room with a 103 degree fever."

"I had to be somewhere," Blaine evaded, smiling charmingly at his friend. Any mentions of Kurt seemed to always inspire teasing from his fellow Warblers (lighthearted, playful teasing involving unnecessarily adjusted collars and mentions of eyesex), so he figured it would be easiest to just do the man-of-mystery thing. (Also, it was kind of fun. As long as no one remembered just how eager he had been for restaurant suggestions the night before, because if they did, his cover was _so _blown.)

But despite his best efforts to avoid triggering Jim's notoriously bad memory, his roommate's eyes lit up with realization. "Oh, you were with your spy, weren't you?"

"And yet, if I wanted you to remember that, if would have been long gone by now," Blaine bemoaned despairingly, as Wes shot them a shut-up-and-focus glare and banged his gavel again. "And he's not _my _spy," he added as an afterthought, making Jim snicker.

"I'm assuming from your expression of completely insane joy that your totally not a date went well?" David asked airily, linking his arm through Wes's as the three boys made their way to the dining commons a few hours later.

"Since when does confronting a homophobic bully fall even remotely close to the category of fun, date-like activities?"

"It doesn't," Wes answered sensibly, twirling his gavel between his fingers. "But whatever happened _after _the confronting of the homophobic bully might."

Blaine rolled his eyes and seized the gavel as it spun happily through the air, making Wes let out an almost inaudible whimper. "Wait, what expression of completely insane joy?"

"Someone's a bit slow on the uptake today," teased Daniel Halstrom, winking at Blaine as he sauntered past them all, holding his palm aloft like the waiter at some five-star restaurant.

David blinked. "Was he there the whole time?"

"Probably. He does that. I'd have thought you'd have been used to it by now," Blaine responded flippantly. "Can we focus, please?"

"On what?"

Blaine fixed him with a glare, and he sighed.

"You get this _look _every time we talk about him. Like, your whole face lights up." Mercedes announced gleefully as they walked over to Kurt's car after rehearsal had ended.

"Shut up, I do not," he protested, silently cursing his burning cheeks.

"Okay." A pause. Kurt furrowed his brow.

"Are you feeling okay? I don't remember the last time I won that easily."

"Blaine," she answered blithely, and he pressed his lips tightly together, fighting against the instinctive smile. "Ha!"

"That's not fair! You cheated."

"That's what they all say, baby."

He huffed indignantly. "Get in the damn car."

"Oh, don't get pissy," David cackled. "It's not our fault your every emotion completely broadcasts itself across your face."

Blaine opened his mouth to argue, and Wes covered it with his hand. "You know, Blainey, you can lie to us, but..." here, he dropped his voice to a melodramatic whisper and continued, "eventually you won't be able to lie to yourself anymore. EW, did you just _lick_ me?"

"It wasn't pleasant for me, either. And for the love of God, stop calling me Blainey."

"But it's so much fun! Your face gets all squinchy when you're angry!"

"...squinchy?"

"It's a word, Blaine."

"No it's not," David answered, losing interest in the conversation and sliding down the rail of the dining hall's steps.

"Ooh, fun!" Wes trilled, abandoning Blaine and following suit.

Blaine laughed, exasperated, and jogged down the stairs after them.

Kurt, admittedly, was not at his most focused during dinner. In fact, one could go so far as to say he had actually rushed through it. In his defense, though, his plans for the afternoon had been foiled when, upon getting home from rehearsal, Carole had waylaid him, desperate for fashion advice. And though he'd been more than eager to dispense it, he did have...things...that he _really _wanted to do. "It was really delicious, Carole," he told his stepmother sweetly, cramming the last forkful of salad into his mouth and practically leaping to his feet.

Burt looked vaguely confused about his son's rush, but he didn't comment. Conversely, Carole smirked at Kurt so slyly that he wondered if she'd been reading his mind all evening, and was therefore aware of exactly what completely pathetic percentage of his thoughts had been devoted to certain excessively beautiful show choir rivals. "Thanks, sweetie."

"Where you going?" Finn asked around a huge mouthful of baked potato.

Kurt winced, rinsing his dishes at warp speed as he spoke. "Attractive, Finley."

Scowling, Finn (who regularly had to explain to authority figures that Finn was not actually short for Finley-or anything else, for that matter), just shoved more food in his mouth and muttered something that sounded like, "You suck."

"Homework!" Kurt sang out, ignoring his stepbrother and all but skipping out of the room. Aside from the whole Karofsky!confrontation..._thing_, it had been a friggin' awesome day. True, besides lunch with Blaine, nothing in particular had happened, but it was more about the fact that lunch with Blaine _had _happened and he still hadn't woken up (because things like that tended to take over his dreams, on good nights, and it totally sucked when his eyes opened). And it didn't hurt that Karofsky must have been at least mildly freaked out by what had happened that morning, because no football players had so much as glanced at Kurt for the rest of the day. He must have found a different way of keeping them all occupied for once. Not that Kurt expected that particular stroke of luck to continue, but...okay, it was just nice to be able to come home in the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd left the house that morning, without pain in any of his body parts.

Humming tranquilly, he bounded down the stairs to his room and woke his laptop with the flick of a finger. _The question of the hour: to homework or not to homework?_

The decision was made within a moment.

Blaine was totally focused on his calc homework. No, seriously, he was. The fact that he was signed into skype and kept checking the window every time he heard anything that sounded even remotely like an alert had nothing to do with Kurt. Nothing at all. (Also, he realized poutily after around the fifteenth time of checking, only to discover that he had no new requests and had, in fact, completely hallucinated that he'd heard the sound, new contact alerts didn't even _make _a sound. They just popped up in a new window, and..._Well, dammit._)

"Waiting for something?" Jim asked innocently, glancing up from his British Lit book as Blaine unconsciously made an irritated sound an indeterminable amount of time later.

"Nope," he lied easily, scribbling some random numbers in the margin of his paper (because that made the whole thing totally convincing, right?) and avoiding thinking about the fact that he was still on exactly the same problem he had been working at twenty minutes ago.

Jim smirked. "You left skype up."

"Huh?" 11. 21. 18. 19..._what the hell am I even writing?_

"Your laptop interests me a hell of a lot more than Charlotte Bronte. And you left your skype window open."

"Oh, did I?"

"Uh huh." What had once been a smirk grew to a full-fledged evil smile. "Who's Kurt Hummel?"

"What? Why?" Blaine's head snapped up so quickly that his neck actually cracked, and he peered eagerly at the lit screen in front of him (which, coincidentally, suddenly showed a request from one _Kurt Hummel_). His eyes widened, and he all but knocked his book to the floor in his haste to accept the other boy.

"HELLOOOO, beautiful people!" Wes sang out, abruptly hurdling through the door with all the grace of a drunken chimpanzee. "Who wants to help me procrastinate?"

"Blaine can't," Jim answered promptly. "He's too busy cyber-flirting with his spy."

"Ooh, really?" Eagerly, Wes bounded the rest of the way into the room and proceeded to completely invade Blaine's personal space in the hopes of seeing some scandalous messages. "Jim! Do not lie about such things. I got so excited!"

Jim's face fell. "Dammit, he's not? Blaine, what the hell?"

"For the millionth time, he is not _my spy_!" Blaine yelped, hoping that had not, as he feared, turned roughly the color of a fire truck. "Wesley. You are _in my bubble_."

Wes clicked his tongue and smirked mischievously at Jim. "Should I make a comment about bubbles?"

"Nah, it's very possible that he'd kill us both. But it's okay. We're both know we're thinking it."

Wrinkling his nose in disappointed agreement, Wes shrugged, attempted to ruffle Blaine's hair (which didn't even budge). "True. Can we talk about how very deep in denial he is, though?"

"You suck," Blaine muttered, barely even bothering to be affronted.

Wes just laughed and skipped back out again, calling over his shoulder, "We should leave him to his lame, mentor-y attempts at flirtation. Just think about this, Blaine..._bondage shorts_."

"I hate you," Blaine responded halfheartedly, devoting most of his focus to double clicking Kurt's name.

Jim grabbed his keys and wiggled his fingers in a little wave. "You'll thank us later, oh darling roommate of mine."

Kurt grinned to himself, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The last thing he'd expected when he'd unearthed Blaine's skype name (finally. How many damn Blaine Andersons _were _there in the world?) was for above-mentioned individual to actually be online when he sent the request. **Hi. :)**he typed, and then immediately backspaced it. _Unoriginal much?_ But then again, what the hell else was there to say? **How's the French coming? **Was that suggestive, though? Not that it _would _be, ordinarily, but..._dammit, Santana, you've got me overanalyzing everything now_. Besides, it wasn't like he wanted Blaine to think all he ever wanted to talk about was school. Annoyed, he wrote, **Ew, it's you. ;) **and pressed enter before he could even let himself think about it.

Except then a response didn't come. And didn't come. And still _wasn't coming_, and ohhhshit, seriously? Why had he put the winky face? Winky faces were definitely suggestive, dammit, and now Blaine was probably freaked out. _That's great. It took me less than three days to wreck it_.

_**Hello to you, too. ;)**_

Kurt stared at the message for a few seconds, trying desperately to remember how to breathe.

**Fancy meeting you here. :)**

Another super-long, painful pause. And then, finallyfinallyfinally...

_**Can I call? I'm pretty much the slowest typer ever. **_(Not remotely true, Blaine mused, but he was starting to worry that Kurt thought he didn't want to talk to him. Which was even less true, so really, it was a completely harmless lie.)

This inspired an influx of so many emotions that Kurt had absolutely no idea how to even begin putting names to them. (Although one of them was admittedly something along the lines of _ohmygod yes please._) In response, he pressed the call button before he could think about how talking face-to-face meant that he wasn't going to be able to think about what to say for ten minutes before actually saying it.

And then Blaine's face appeared on the screen, and thinking at all became a major issue. "Hi," said unfairly, breath-stealingly beautiful individual greeted him, smiling crookedly.

Kurt wasn't exactly sure, but some tiny part of his subconscious was kind of afraid that maybe he was _actually _gaping unflatteringly at the screen, possibly whilst drooling. "You...have glasses."

"Oh." Self-consciously, Blaine ducked his head, watching his tiny corner of the screen in mild mortification as his cheeks reddened. "Right, I forgot to take them off."

"No, leave them! I mean. Um." Kurt coughed, averting his eyes as well. "They look...you don't have to take them off."

"Oh." Uncertainly, Blaine pushed them up on his nose. "Okay. Ah, so...what are you doing?" _Smooth_. _Really. Well done._

When Kurt laughed, Blaine noticed, his eyes crinkled adorably in the corners. Wait, no. _Not _adorably. Because adorable is not an adjective that mentors use in thinking about the people they mentor. Nope. "Oh, you know. Just talking to some random guy I met a couple days ago."

"Oh, hey, what a coincidence! Me too!"

"Craziness, I tell you," Kurt answered mock-solemnly, shaking his head.

Blaine grinned. "I had a great time today. At lunch, you know, not..." _Kindly shut up before you put your foot in your mouth, Blainey._ "I mean, at lunch," he corrected himself, trying to ignore the fact that he was actually taking advice from the combined voices of his two best friends that lived in his head now (and that they even used thatGod-awful nickname when they weren't even really there, dammit). Because having their voices in his head at all wasn't insane enough. _Grah. _

"I know what you mean," Kurt replied with a tiny smile. "It was nice to get away for a couple of hours."

"How was the rest of the day, though?" Blaine leaned closer instinctively, as though Kurt were sitting right across the table.

The other boy's face brightened. "Actually, it was really good. I mean, nobody did anything...unpleasant."

Blaine relaxed. "Well, good."

"I mean, I don't think it's going to keep on forever, but he didn't even look at me," Kurt continued, allowing the wave of happiness and relief that this statement inspired to wash over him again.

"That's fantastic!" Blaine beamed. "I'm so glad I was able to be there with you."

"Me too," Kurt confessed, twisting his fingers together compulsively. "I don't know if I ever would have been able to confront him again otherwise." _I would have been too afraid of what he might have done_.

Kurt didn't have to vocalize the rest of the thought for Blaine to know what it was. "And I'll be there whenever you need me. If you want me. To...be."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt grinned, a little sheepishly. To tell the truth, he almost wished he could beg Blaine to transfer to McKinley and be there all the time, because as good as today had been, he harbored no delusions that tomorrow would be the same.

"Do you want to talk about something else?" Blaine offered perceptively.

"Can I see your room?" He'd asked the question before he really thought it through, and at Blaine's mildly surprised expression, realized how intimate it actually sounded. He opened his mouth to backpedal, but Blaine was already speaking.

"I mean...sure, yeah. It's a bit of a mess, though, sorry. It's just that I was in kind of a rush this morning" _because I really wanted to see you_ "so, ah..."

"Oh, I don't care, you don't even have to show me if you don't want-"

"No, no, I really don't mind-"

"It's nothing, really. It's just that I still feel kind of like your eHarmony bio was _so _not sufficient and Cosmo told me that you can learn a lot about a person from his room," Kurt babbled, "except I think that might be bull, because for all I know, like, you could show me your room and I'd be like, 'oh, look, your sheets are blue, so obviously that's your favorite color,' and then you'd be like, 'no it's not. Actually I kind of hate blue, but my other sheets are in the wash, and these were a present from my mom, so I had to keep them' and dear GaGa why are you letting me ramble like this?"

"Because it's-" _cuteadorableendearingNO. BLAINE. STOP. _

Kurt moistened his lips nervously, feeling unreasonably grateful that the desk allowed him to wipe his insanely sweaty palms without Blaine actually catching him, and then attempted to look as calm and composed as he totally wasn't. "It's what?"

"...kind of funny," Blaine finished, relieved that the adjective had finally occurred to him. Kurt tried not to look as disappointed as he felt, but, thanks to the convenient corner of his screen in which he could see his own reflection, he was aware of exactly how much that endeavor failed.

"Oh. Okay. Heh."

Blaine quieted, feeling intensely awkward. Well, _damn_ that hadn't worked out as well as he'd hoped. "Do you want to test that theory?" he asked finally, when the silencehad become a little too uncomfortable to bear.

Kurt blinked, pulling himself out of a reverie that he wouldn't even let himself remember anymore. "What theory...?"

"The one you learned from the psychologists of Cosmo," Blaine teased, hoping this wasn't coming across as creepy. _I mean, really. Want to see my room? How much more creepy-pedo does it get? Though he mentioned it first, so it totally doesn't count. Right? Right._

The way Kurt's eyes lit up, though, implied that he was not freaked out by Blaine's inadvertently clumsy invitation. "Seriously?"

"Yeah...I mean, if you want." He paused. "Is this weird? I feel like this might be weird." _Shut __**up**__, Blaine. Shut up __**now**__. Kurt asked you first, remember?_

Kurt creased his brow. "Why would it be weird? I asked you, remember?"

"I...don't know," the other admitted, closing his eyes briefly and ignoring the irony of this moment. "It's not. I should stop talking."

A smirk flitted across Kurt's lips, vanishing before Blaine could be sure he'd seen it. Was it possible that Blaine was actually _nervous_? "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." _Hell __**yeah**__ I can be ballsy_.

Blaine was fairly sure his jaw had just fallen open in abject astonishment. Had Kurt, innocent, precious _Kurt Hummel _just...was that...what just happened? "Whuh?" he managed eloquently, wondering vaguely where his previously excellent grasp of the English language had gone.

He _knew_ Kurt had smirked that time. "My room, Blaine."

_Oh, God, how mortifying. _"Right, no, yeah, I got that," he blurted out, staring carefully at a spot juuust over Kurt's head and focusing all his energy on not blushing. Kurt's eyebrow twitched north, and Blaine cleared his throat. "Um. Sure. Just a second while I..." the _unplug my laptop_ went unsaid as he carefully ducked under his desk to do exactly that, quietly facepalming while he was safely out of Kurt's line of vision. Really? What in the hell was going on with him? It was just _Kurt _for God's sake.

Kurt, meanwhile, was _totally not_ staring at the expanse of skin that had been revealed when Blaine bent over. Really. Reallyreally. And then there was a loud thud, and said boy emerged, rubbing the back of his head and wincing in an entirely adorable manner. Kurt's hand flew to his mouth. "Did you just hit your head?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Blaine asked ruefully, rolling his head back to crack his neck.

"Um. No," Kurt replied, trying not to look amused. "Are you okay?"

"Totally. Okay. So. I'm not going to bother showing you Jim's side of the room, because...I don't know, do you want to see Jim's side of the room?"

"Not particularly."

"Kay. Don't mind the lamely white walls. I board at Dalton."

"...is that a _Robert Pattinson poster_?"

"Hey, he was good-looking in his Harry Potter days!" Blaine defended, grateful that Kurt couldn't actually see him at this specific moment.

"Undeniably true. He just, I don't know...doesn't seem like your type." Kurt didn't even bother trying to convince himself that this wasn't a blatant attempt to find out what Blaine's type _was_.

Blaine shrugged, forgetting that Kurt, who was currently still facing the Robert Pattinson wall, still couldn't see him. "I don't think I really have a specific physical type. Know what I mean?"

_Oh, thank God_. "Yeah, definitely." A pause. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I see something else? I mean, as much as I love Cedric-era Rob, there is only so long I can stare at him before getting mildly bored."

Blaine laughed. "I disagree. But okay."

"Blaaaine. He doesn't even wash his _hair_."

"He doesn't wash his hair _now_," Blaine corrected. "Do you see it? It is obviously so much cleaner in this movie."

"We have no guarantee that _he _actually washed it. I personally suspect that other people held him down and forced shampoo on him, and wouldn't let him up until his hair was clean." (Blaine tried very hard not to think about this.)

Blaine turned the laptop around and pouted at him. Kurt choked on air. "You okay?" he asked amusedly, smirking.

"Mmhmm." Kurt widened his eyes. "Anyway. Onward, Anderson."

"Right, right."

"You have so many posters," Kurt marveled, drinking in all the Broadway posters that lined Blaine's side of the room. "Have you actually seen all these shows?"

"Ah..." The answer, of course, was yes. But he wasn't entirely sure he wanted Kurt to know that, considering.

"You have," Kurt filled in, eyes wide as they roamed over images of Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth, Adam Pascal and Rosario Dawson, Michael Ball...for God's sake, it never ended. "I am so jealous, Blaine. Seriously."

It may have been a slight problem that Blaine's first thought was, "Don't be, I'll take you with me next time."

"Oh my God," Kurt continued. "This is insane."

"Anyway," Blaine rushed on, quickly turning the laptop away from the wall. "This is my bed. The sheets are not, as you see, blue, and are in fact a completely lame cream color."

"Your comforter's nice, though. I like the contrast of the burgundy with the light sheets."

"Oh. Thanks." He smiled. "What did you learn about me from my bedding, Kurt?"

"Absolutely nothing," he admitted, grinning back even though Blaine couldn't see it.

"Desk," Blaine added unnecessarily.

"Holy crap, Blaine, why do you have so much snack food? And why is it all over your desk? Like, how did your laptop even fit?"

"I had it on top of the box of chocolate-covered pretzels." Blaine blushed. For some reason, he'd completely forgotten that the sheer amount of food that he had at the moment wasn't exactly typical.

"...there isn't space for your books."

"Oh, my books are on a shelf in my closet. We have enormous closets, and the uniform means that we don't really need that much space for clothes..."

Kurt gasped so melodramatically that Blaine actually turned the computer around to make sure he was okay. But he just pointed a slightly shaky finger at Blaine and rasped, "Do you mean to tell me...that you don't have regular clothes in your closet?" He sounded so horrified that Blaine actually snorted.

"No I do not."

"Do not _what?_"

"Mean to tell you that I don't have other clothes in my closet," he teased.

"Oh thank GaGa, you terrified me for a second." Kurt fought the urge to ask to see Blaine's clothes, instead refocusing on his initial question. "So what's the deal with the food? Are you having a party?" (The idea of Blaine having a party at an entirely male school, where he was undoubtedly not the only gay person, _didn't _bother Kurt. Really, it didn't. Because that was completely ridiculous. It wasn't like he really knew Blaine or something, so...)

"No, no. Actually, when I get stressed out, I tend to forget to eat," Blaine confessed, adjusting the laptop slightly. "And then I get really snippy, and everybody ends up coming over with food."

"So you've been stressed lately?"

"A bit." He rubbed the back of his neck, almost dropping the computer in the process. "It's just that sectionals are in a few weeks, I'm sure your glee club's kicking it up a few notches too. And it seems like every year around this time, my biology teacher decides he's going to absolutely load us with work. So I'm going a little crazy."

"You hide it well," Kurt informed him, sounding almost wistful. "I wish I could do that."

Blaine grimaced. "That's kind of funny, because Wes and David say that I wear my every thought on my sleeve."

Kurt muttered something that sounded vaguely like, "I wish."

"..." Blinking, Blaine decided that there was really nothing to be gained from attempting to figure out what this meant. "Oh, here, look, something that's actually interesting!" Kurt laughed as Blaine swung him around to show him an enormous corkboard that hung by his closet.

"You're making me dizzy," he cackled giddily, closing his eyes as the world swirled around him.

"You can look now," Blaine announced triumphantly, and he opened his eyes.

The board was dominated with photos, mostly of Blaine and two ridiculously good-looking people who could only be his parents; or Blaine, Wes, and David. Sprinkled among those were medals from what appeared to be singing competitions, a few covers of programs from shows that Blaine had been in (Kurt took special interest in the "Beauty and the Beast" one and resolved to ask Blaine about when he could press him for more information, and possibly demand a live performance), and a few sketches. "You draw?"

"No, actually. I wish I could. But my best friend from my old school is a completely amazing artist, and she draws me something for every major holiday because she knows how jealous I am of her skill," he admitted, chuckling self-deprecatingly.

"Can you really not draw, or are you doing that false modesty thing?" Kurt frowned teasingly, even though Blaine technically still couldn't see him. "Because seriously, I'm beginning to think you're kind of perfect."

Was it possible to blush so hard that your face would catch on fire? Because Blaine was pretty sure he was getting there. "I am so not."

"I'll believe that when I see the proof," Kurt answered mock-primly, sniffing.

"I can't decide whether I'm intimidated by that or flattered."

"Why the hell would you be intimidated? Do you have any idea how much better I would feel if I knew you had a fault?"

"Trust me, I have them. Like, okay...there's the whole stress-anorexia thing. And then there's the fact that I can barely walk on a flat surface without tripping over my feet..." _and I can't carry on a conversation with you without tripping over my _words_._

Kurt just laughed, "Okay, Blaine," and went back to looking at everything. There were several candids of people that Kurt assumed were Warblers, but none of them were in uniform. Casually-dressed Blaine was enough to make Kurt's heart skip several frenzied beats, and he had to work way harder than he should have to tear his eyes away. "You _do _have real clothes," he teased, staring intentionally at a very unflattering shot of Wevid making hideous faces at the camera so as to avoid stammering like an idiot when he attempted to speak. And then he promptly got distracted two seconds later by another shot. "Wait, what does that say?"

"What?"

"Your shirt. In that picture of you with that redhead."

"Oh, that's my roommate. Jim. The shirt..." Blaine inched closer and squinted at it. "I think that's my varsity soccer shirt."

Kurt blinked rapidly. "Your _what_?"

"Soccer shirt. I played for a bit before I came here, because I assumed that if I played a sport, they'd leave me alone." He laughed, a little bitterly. "They didn't."

"Ah." Kurt bit his lip, fighting the urge to ask the question that bubbled up against his lips. But Blaine, of course, being himself, seemed to sense his hesitation, because he queried:

"What's up?"

"Why did you transfer? I mean...what happened? If you want to tell me, I mean, it's not like you have to or anything, I totally understand and-"

"Kurt. It's okay," he answered gently. "I wouldn't mind. Especially not with you. But I think...we should probably talk about it in person. I mean, I think it'd be..."

"Yeah, no, I understand," he cut in quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"Oh, please, stop. You're not prying at all." He paused. Could he..."Hey," he continued, before he could talk himself out of the idea that had just popped into his head. "What are you doing on Friday?"

Kurt was pretty sure he was going into cardiac arrest. Like, _fairly certain_ that his heart wasn't supposed to be beating so fast, nor was his vision supposed to be going all fuzzy. Except maybe that was because because he'd forgotten how to breathe again...? "Nothing," he wheezed, when he had finally regained his powers of speech, and suspected, somewhere in some dormant corner of his mind, that he was a) lying, and b) that he should say something more, perhaps something along the lines of, "Why?" However, he just settled on staring into space with wide eyes like a deranged guppy and waited for Blaine to speak again.

"If, um," Blaine began, wondering why it was suddenly so very hard to speak, "if you want, we could hang out. We could celebrate getting through the school week, and then actually talk about stuff face to face. Which might be kind of nicer than the laptop thing, because. Um." _Think, Blaine. __**Think**__. "Because I want to see your face again for real" is not a valid response, and is in fact, really odd. _

"That sounds really fun," Kurt replied, still sounding a bit odd, and Blaine turned the laptop around again, mildly concerned.

Kurt closed his eyes as the world realigned itself around him again, taking the moment to attempt to compose himself. Which was only mildly successful, because then he opened his eyes, and there was bespeckled Blaine, looking slightly worried and completely cute and _dammit_ why did he have to be like that?

"KUUUUUUUURT!"

Said boy jumped about a mile, and Blaine nearly dropped his laptop in surprise. "What was that?"

Kurt shook his head. "My...stepbrother. Kind of. Not yet. Hold on." He turned away for a moment. "WHAT, FINN?"

Thud. Thud. Thud. A lanky boy whose dark hair stuck up in a thousand different directions and whose eyes were squinty with sleepiness suddenly appeared in the frame behind Kurt, and fixed his eyes on the boy with what appeared to be his best puppy-dog expression. "Help me."

"With _what_?" Exasperated did not even begin to _cover _what was going on in Kurt's head. "Finn, I'm talking."

"No, it's okay," Blaine hurried to assure him. "I really don't mind."

"_Blaine_." Kurt turned and widened his eyes. "No, seriously..."

"Who's Blaine?" Finn's eyes lit with sudden interest, and he moved closer and waved at the screen. "Hi. Who are you? I'm Finn. Kurt's almost stepbrother."

"I'm just a friend of Kurt's," Blaine answered, grinning as charmingly as he could at the other boy and immediately regretting the _just. _But then again, what was he supposed to say? It wasn't like he was going to be like, "I'm a guy who spends way too many hours of every day puzzling over the exact color of your stepbrother's eyes." And really, it wasn't like he was crushing on Kurt or something. Because he _wasn't_. He was Kurt's friend. And he just wanted to help him.

"I don't recognize you," Finn answered, and Blaine wondered if he was imagining the edge of suspicion in the other boy's voice. "Where do you go?"

"I board at Dalton Academy." Blaine didn't notice Kurt's subtly shaking head until he was already midway through the sentence, and winced apologetically when he'd finished speaking.

Finn's entire face lit up, and he opened his mouth again, but Kurt quickly blurted out, "!" and hung up so quickly that Blaine didn't even realize what had happened until a good ten seconds later.

_Well, at least there's Friday._

**Argh. Again with stupid endings.**

**Whatever.**

**If you all want me to, I can turn this into a series of oneshots (like, if you wanted, I could do the actual scenes from the quasi-dates that Kurt mentions in "The Substitute"), but if you're like, "Dude, whatever, you should stop," that's cool too. But either way, I would so appreciate some feedback! (Sorry for how ridiculous I sound. I'm so tired...)**

**Love you all! You're amazing!**


	3. Cookies and Cuddling

**IT'S A MONSTER CHAPTER, YOU GUYS! I'm so sorry, I know it took forever. :( I've been so stressed out lately, there are no words. And I was majorly angsting earlier in the week, so I wrote an AU follow-up of WIGYA. You could check it out if you want, I'm considering incorporating it into this. **

**Happy reading, beautifuls! (Oh, and it's majorly unbetaed. I literally just finished it right now. So please excuse stupid errors.**

_Shit_. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, Kurt attempted, as quickly as humanly possible, to decide the best course of action. A very large portion of his brain was screaming something that sounded a lot like _**STOP BEING SUCH A DOUCHE AND CANCEL YOUR DAMN PLANS**_, because he could tell that Mercedes really had been looking forward to bowling. And he hated when she was sad (especially when it was kind of his fault). So it wasn't like this would be a difficult decision to make.

"I can't. Blaine asked me to hang out."

_ ...fuck. That wasn't what I was going to say. What the hell._

Mercedes's expression dropped even further, and she looked so horribly disappointed that his heart gave a pang in response. But it wasn't as though he could take it back now that he'd actually said it _(yes you can, and you should)_, so instead, he heaved the tiniest of sighs and tried to paste a completely normal-looking expression onto his face.

(He wasn't going to lie, the rest of the conversation went by in a bit of a blur, because he was still attempting to wrestle his obviously failing moral values into submission and force himself to cancel his plans with Blaine. It didn't end up happening, and he suspected that he'd been rather colder to Mercedes than he'd intended to be. Again, _shit_. He pushed it out of his mind by picking another random date and informing her that he'd be all hers then.)

"I gotta go, love you," he added quickly as he caught sight of a letterman's jacket from somewhere behind Mercedes (and too far away for him to be able to tell who it belonged to). And before she could question him, he scurried off.

* * *

"So what do you want to do?" Blaine queried a few hours later, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder and quickly typing a few concluding words on his English essay.

_Anything, as long as you're there. _Kurt dropped his head lightly onto his desk at the thought. God, how unforgivably cheesy. "I don't know." He guessed that it was what he'd been thinking before he spoke that made his tone so horridly snappish, and in that one moment, he couldn't decide whether it was better or worse that Blaine couldn't read his mind and know that Kurt wasn't pissed about something. As quietly as he could, he banged his head against the desk again, hoping to maybe knock some common sense back into his brain. _Seriously, stop being an idiot. _

Blaine's eyebrow inched up. _Did I say something wrong_? _What...?_

But then Kurt was speaking again. Rambling, actually. "Sorry. It's just that Finn just walked it," and the fact that this couldn't possibly have been more of a lie probably should have bothered him, but dammit, he needed an excuse. And his basically-stepbrother was as good a scapegoat as any. "...and he was giving me that, 'Kurt, who are you talking to? Kurt. Hey. Kurt. Hey. Hey Kurt,' look and poking me incessantly." He would have felt bad about the lie, if that exact thing didn't have a disturbing tendency of coming true on a weekly basis. Thus, it was totally conceivable, and, Kurt noted with delight, it had come out sounding convincing. Which, you know, was always good.

"Oh." And, that quickly, Blaine relaxed. "You scared me for a second. I thought I offended you somehow."

Kurt actually snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

"...wait, what?"

"Blaine, I'm pretty sure you're not even _capable _of offending me. You're unfairly charming. It's actually a bit intimidating." Why, why, _why _had his brain-to-mouth filter just nose-dived off the nearest cliff with absolutely no warning? Thatwas the very _definition_ of unfair.

Blaine, meanwhile, was gawping unattractively into middle distance as his brain desperately tried to figure out what to make of _that_. Sadly, his thought process looked something like: eauhsdnzxckjf/awehti;e?_charming_?

"Close your mouth, you're drooling," Wes announced as he exploded through the door, cheerfully tapping on Blaine's chin and making the other boy jump so much that he tumbled backward out of his chair. "WES, WHAT THE HELL?" he exploded, and Kurt laughed so hard that he actually started to cry.

"Do I even want to know what just happened?"

"Are you physically incapable of _knocking_?" Blaine railed on, completely oblivious to Kurt's question as he attempted to disentangle himself from the legs of his chair.

"Tell Kurt hi!" Wes sang, tugging Blaine to his feet with absolutely zero effort. "Kurt, darling, I don't know what you said, but when I walked in, Blaine was totally-"

"Wesley Craven, I swear to God-"

"That's not very nice," Wes interjected poutily. "It's not my fault that your entire face changes every time anything even remotely involving Kurt happens and everyone in a twenty mile radius can tell who you're thinking about..."

"No, it does not," Blaine gritted out, shooting Wes the kind of look that was typically translated to mean things like, 'I have every intention of sneaking into your room in the dead of night to castrate you with a rusty spoon. Now get the hell out.'

Kurt, meanwhile, felt kind of like he was going to explode. Because it was one thing to _imagine_ that something like that could be possible, but hearing it from Wes was..._so _different. Because Wes actually knew what he was talking about. More than Kurt did, anyway. He hoped, desperately, that Blaine didn't expect him to say anything remotely coherent any time soon, because it simply wasn't going to happen.

Fortunately, Blaine was distracted by Wes laughing hysterically (and as loudly as possible to ensure that Kurt could hear him), and then dancing out of the room singing "Bad Romance" at the top of his lungs. Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, fighting the sudden dull ache in his head. "I'm sorry that my association with heathens forces you to have to deal with them, too."

Still having no idea where to even begin with this whole thing, Kurt settled for the first thing that popped into his head. "Um. I didn't think that Wes was..."

"So obnoxious? You lived in a happy bubble of oblivion for a while. I envy you." Blaine laughed a little. "He seems very civilized when you first meet him, but I threatened him and David with bodily harm so they'd be on their best behavior when they met you. Typically, between those two, an average of five things gets broken per week."

Kurt snorted. And then his brain caught up with Blaine's words, and he kind of choked. "Wait, why did you threaten them with bodily harm? You didn't even know me."

Blaine swallowed. "I just...didn't think you needed to deal with their insanity. I mean. Um. I could kind of tell that you had your own stuff going on, so...yeah." It was true. Sure, Blaine couldn't help but notice how adorable Kurt was (and how very obviously not a Dalton student), but after he'd finished singing (and _okay_, it was effing fantastic to have such a cute guy to sing to), it had occurred to him that something might really be bothering the other boy. (It was like he had a sixth sense about these things.)

"Oh." And why was he so disappointed? "Um, yeah. Good...idea, there."

"I...thanks."

"BLAINE, I NEED A FAVOR!" David yelped, bursting through the door, then doing a double-take. "Oh. Hey, Kurt!"

"How the _hell _do they do that?" Kurt burst out, not quite sure whether he should be annoyed with the constant interruptions, or grateful to know that talking to him obviously affected Blaine in some noticeable way. (Provided, of course, that it wasn't just a coincidence, and that Wes and David weren't just conveniently teasing Blaine for no actual reason.) Dammit. This was so not good for his brain.

"I have no idea," Blaine replied, groaning. "What, David?"

"Never mind, I can wait 'til you're done," he answered serenely, and bounced out of the room.

"I think they do it just to annoy me," Blaine complained.

Kurt laughed despite himself. "They just love you, is all. And...maybe have no respect for your privacy."

"I should start locking my door," he mused, and then abruptly realized that _hello_, Kurt probably had no interest in talking about this. "Anyway. About tomorrow."

Kurt twisted his fingers together anxiously. For some reason, ever since they'd agreed that they would hang out at the end of the week, the only place he could imagine it taking place was at his house. Damn _Cosmo_ had made him obsessed with the idea of Blaine seeing his room. (Well, that, and the fact that seeing _Blaine's _room had basically convinced Kurt entirely that the other boy was perfect. And he was maybe hoping that the same sort of thing would happen for Blaine.) "I...I mean, you could come over. If you wanted. To like...see my house and stuff. Or I could meet you somewhere closer to Dalton, if you don't want to drive that far. Because. Um. My house is kind of boring, I guess, so we..."

Blaine grinned despite himself. "Why do you sound so nervous? I'd love to see your house." The ridiculously long drive, to be perfectly honest, hadn't even occurred to him as an issue. Instead, he was just excited at the prospect of learning more about Kurt; because as much as they'd talked over the past few days (and they certainly had done plenty of talking), Blaine couldn't help feeling like there was still so much about him that he didn't know. So many things that made Kurt the strong, courageous boy that he was.

"Are you sure? It's so far..."

"Trust me, it'll be nice to get away from Dalton for a while," Blaine assured him. "It gets a little repressive around here sometimes."

"Oh." Kurt blinked repeatedly. "It does?"

Blaine shrugged even though he knew the other boy couldn't see him. "Mmhmm. We're very traditional around here, and it gets to be a bit much sometimes. I mean, weekends loosen up a lot, but...still. What time do you want me?"

_Um, always_? _**Shut up. **_Groaning quietly, Kurt blurted, "Finn's going out with Rachel at like 5:30. And I highly doubt that you meeting her is a good idea right now. She'll be all up on you about spying. So. Six?"

"Sounds great," Blaine answered sincerely. "Hey, I should go find out what David wanted. If he's left untended too long, something's bound to get broken. See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah," Kurt managed dumbly into the silence.

_Oh, it is going to be a __**long**__ night.

* * *

_

"So, um, this is my...room," Kurt managed, silently cursing his slightly trembling voice and still basically facing the hallway. Because Blaine. Was in. His room. And no one else was home, nor did they have any intention of being home pretty much all night, and _God _this was not a good thought process to be having right now, because...because Blaine was _right up behind him_, chuckling slightly as he closed the door.

"It's nice," he murmured not even bothering to look around before gently steering Kurt around to face him, his eyes half-mast as he gazed at the other boy. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, Blaine moved forward brought his hand up to cup Kurt's cheek.

A slight gasp escaped Kurt, and he stuttered, "Wh-what..."

"Shhh." His thumb was caressing Kurt's cheekbone so gently that it didn't even feel real as his other arm wound its way around Kurt's waist. Instinctively, Kurt, who was already pressed up against the door, slid down slightly to let Blaine be the taller one, so that he could look up at him through the thick fringe of his lashes. Blaine's lips danced slowly, tantalizingly, over his skin, barely touching him and making Kurt unconsciously arch his back toward Blaine to close the already miniscule distance between them. His breath was coming in short gasps, and he was pretty sure Blaine could actually see his heart beating through his chest. Or, well, he would have been able to see it, if his eyes weren't so fixed on Kurt's _face _(which was so unbelievably sexy that Kurt just couldn't even think right now). Blaine's lips parted ever so slightly, and he leaned his forehead against Kurt's, his face betraying a hint of uncertainty for the first time. "Kurt," he managed, a little breathlessly, "if you don't want...we...we don't have to..."

But Kurt was _so _going to explode if this just ended right here. So he twined his arms around Blaine's neck, bringing their faces even closer together, and breathed, "Blaine..._please_."

And if that wasn't the absolute hottest thing that Blaine had ever heard _ever_, he didn't know what was. And finally, _finally..._

Kurt woke up with a gasp, sheets twisted hopelessly around his legs, and glanced desperately around the room. Where...where was...? "_Fuck_."

Finn paused in the doorway as he wandered by, blinking sleepily. "...um?"

He sighed heavily. "Morning, Finn."

"Mm," Finn mumbled. "You 'kay?"

"Fine, fine." Because seriously, he was so not going to go into this with Finn, of all people. "Just go take a shower."

"Kay."

* * *

Blaine sat bolt upright, shooting a betrayed glare at his cheerily buzzing alarm clock and letting out a frustrated groan. Seriously, could it not have waited _five more minutes_? Or three? Or _anything_?

_Shouldn't you be freaked out for entirely different reasons, Mr. There's-Nothing-Between-Me-and-Kurt? _asked a voice somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind that sounded a lot like David. (Blaine wondered about his sanity when his first thought was, "Wait, where's Wes?" instead of "Oh, God, not again.) Annoyed, he hurled his pillow toward the clock and flopped backward to burrow back under his covers.

Well, _shit._

"What the hell's your problem?" Wes asked a few minutes later, sounding entirely bored. "Did you have another sex dream about Kurt?"

"What do you mean 'another _sex_ dream?'" Blaine demanded instinctively, not even realizing how bad it would sound until it was already out of his mouth.

"So you _have _dreamt about him!" David crowed triumphantly (even though, seriously, how anybody could jump to that conclusion was so far beyond Blaine at this point that it wasn't even funny. Then again, he was a little sleep deprived).

"No, I haven't," he lied, trying valiantly to ignore his treacherously burning cheeks.

* * *

"Bullshit," Mercedes replied promptly, rolling her eyes. "White boy, do not even play with me. I know you better."

"Whatever." Kurt groaned and actually had to fight the urge to bury his face in his hands (because that would wreck havoc on not only his hair, but his moisturizing routine. And no one was worth that, dammit). "Nothing's going to happen, Cedes, so it doesn't even matter."

"Pessimist," she teased, hip-bumping him playfully. "Might I remind you that yet again, he is going to spend three hours in a car for the sole purpose of seeing you?"

"Meh," he replied, suppressing a grin. "You should not be letting me get my hopes up like this."

She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Because what if he was right? So finally, she settled on, "Yes, well. If he hurts you, I will cut him."

Laughing despite himself, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, babygirl."

"You know it."

* * *

"Blaine!" Wes barked, for what had to have been the tenth time in the last hour. "Would you _focus?_"

Blaine heaved an irritated sigh. Council!Wes and everyday!Wes were completely different people, and to be perfectly truthful, council!Wes could be a total asshole sometimes. "I am focused, Wes," he replied evenly. "Let's just take it from the top of the page."

As Wes banged his gavel in agreement, Blaine snuck a wistful look at the clock. There were still twenty minutes left of rehearsal, unfortunately. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, centering himself, and then nodded to let everyone know he was ready.

When rehearsal had finally ended, he had to exercise genuine effort not to just grab his stuff and bolt off. It had been an incredibly long, stressful day, and he was looking forward to the opportunity to relax. (He tried not to think about how ironic it was that that relaxation was going to happen with a boy he barely even knew, instead of his two best friends.) "I'll see you guys later," he called to said best friends, shouldering his bag and wandering toward the door.

"Hey, hold up!" Wes replied, tucking his gavel into his own bag somewhat reverently and jogging after him. "I'm sorry about earlier. You know how I get sometimes."

Blaine snorted. "Don't worry about it. Make it up to me by covering for me if I'm late for curfew?"

"And why would you be late for curfew, hmm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously."

"Of course." Wes sounded mildly offended that Blaine would doubt him. "Have fun, Anderson. Drive safe."

"Thanks." Blaine beamed, quickly clapped Wes on the back, and walked off.

He was halfway to Lima when he realized that he'd actually left way earlier than he'd needed to. Kurt had texted him with his address this morning, and his GPS was happily informing him that he'd be there in less than forty minutes. The problem with this, of course, being that it was only four thirty. He pulled into the first random parking lot he could find and sent Kurt a quick text:

_**Where do I go if I want food in Lima?**_

Kurt, who was currently trying on and discarding absolutely everything he owned in the hopes of finding the perfect "this is so not a date, but if you want, it can be" outfit (which was a lot harder than it sounded), nearly jumped through the ceiling when his phone vibrated against his hip.

_What do you mean? You're not here already? _

_**I may have hurried out of Warblers practice without checking the clock. It's been one of those days.**_

His immediate mental response was to be a little disappointed that Blaine hadn't been motivated by a desperate desire to see him, but he scoffed quietly at himself and quickly typed, _Want to talk about it?_

Blaine smiled despite himself at the characteristically caring words. Kurt had probably had to deal with a pile and a half of crap at McKinley today, and yet he was asking about Blaine's day. _**Nah, nothing major. Just the usual insane whirlwind of work, y'know?**_

Kurt let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Blaine had always said Dalton had a strict no-harassment policy, but it didn't stop the other boy from worrying about him sometimes. After all, his life couldn't be entirely perfect...could it? _About the food, there's Breadstix, but that's a bit datey. Would probably be way depressing to go alone._

_**Want to come with? **_Blaine erased it instantly, cursing his stupid impulses. He didn't even _like _Kurt that way, the last thing he wanted to do was encourage some sort of crush. (Wevid laughed disbelievingly in the back of his mind, and he groaned. _**Eh, I'll figure it out. Thanks though! :)**_

_You could come over early, if you wanted. _His stomach flipped just a little, even though it wasn't really a risky text to send-and then, of course, just as his phone gave a comforting little buzz in response, Finn burst into the room. "Kurt, you have to help me!"

He rocketed to his feet. "Who's dying and where are they?"

"No, no, I totally fucked up, Rachel's gonna kill me!"

"..." Slowly, Kurt returned to his chair. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I don't even know what I did but she's really really mad."

"Don't say it, Finn Hudson, do _not _say it. I have plans tonight, and I _cannot_..."

"Please. Kurt seriously, just this once, I _really really really_-"

"Finn, I don't have time to bake your girlfriend apology cookies. Make them yourself!"

"You know I'm not allowed near the oven when Mom and Burt aren't home," Finn whined. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease. Pretty please?"

"Oh my God. Finn, are you six?"

"It's going to be the last time, I promise! I just don't want her to be mad at me and-"

"You keep saying it's going to be the last time and it never is. Forgive me for being less than likely to believe you," Kurt answered primly, flipping open his phone.

_**Are you sure that would be okay? I found a place, so I'm eating now, but... **_I kind of want to hang out with you more, he allowed himself to finish mentally.

_Yeah, of course. Unfortunately, Finn's date got cancelled, but he won't be overly irritating. I hope. _Which, of course, left Kurt with only one alternative. "Dammit, Finn, this is the _last time_."

"Yes! Thank you so, so much. You're the best, bro!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly, bounding out of the room and upstairs with far too much enthusiasm for a guy who had just had what sounded like a pretty massive fight with his girlfriend. (Then again, it was Rachel, so it wasn't like these were particularly unusual occurrences.)

* * *

Blaine found himself standing on Kurt's front porch about half an hour later, trying to work up the courage (again, how painfully ironic) to go through with ringing the bell. Not that it was even a big deal. Because it wasn't; it was absolutely not a date. He was just...a little uncertain about the possibility of meeting Finn for real. Because of everything Kurt had told him about him.

Yeah.

Totally.

_Maybe if you hadn't left Dalton insanely early, this wouldn't be an issue. _(_Shut up_, he told himself firmly, and pressed the doorbell.)

"I got it!" Someone who was absolutely not Kurt shouted, and there was a series of loud thuds as said person bounded toward the door.

"_No!"_ Horrified, Kurt (who had taken the opportunity to fix his hair once the cookies were safely in the oven) hurled his can of hairspray toward his stepbrother, dragged the comb through his bangs one more time, and speed-walked (because he was afraid that full-out sprinting would get him all sweaty and gross, and that was so not okay) up the stairs.

"Dude, you're hair's sticking up all funny," Finn snickered, dodging Kurt's makeshift projectile easily and using his almost-stepbrother's momentary hesitation to lope past him.

"No it is _not_, Finn Hudson!" Kurt screeched, redoubling his efforts to overtake him. "I swear by all things GaGa, do not answer that door!"

"Or what?" Finn called back, far too cheerfully for Kurt's liking, and proceeded to fling open the door. Blaine jerked back just slightly, surprised, and tried to smile as charmingly as possible to make up for it.

"Hi. I'm Blaine Anderson."

"I figured. I met you on skype that time, remember?"

"'Kay, Finn, could you maybe be civilized and let him in?" Kurt demanded. "It's cold outside."

"Oh, right. Sorry, dude," Finn apologized quickly, backing up and letting Blaine walk past him into the house.

"Sorry," Kurt reiterated, gently grabbing Blaine's wrist to pull him into the kitchen. "Do you want anything? I'm just finishing baking apology cookies for Rachel. Don't even ask- -Finn can be annoyingly persuasive when he wants to be."

"Hey!" said boy protested, pouting, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Seriously? Stop screwing up enough to have to fix it with baked deliciousness. It's making my life ridiculously difficult to have to find baking supplies every five seconds. Out." As Finn disappeared (which, Kurt was not going to lie, was a complete surprise. He'd expected a lot more of a fight), he shot a quick, apologetic grin at Blaine. "I'm really sorry. Finn wouldn't stop poking me. This is how he gets people to do things, unfortunately. But anyway, it should only be a few more minutes. And at least you get a cookie?" His voice lifted just a little at the end, and Blaine grinned.

"You are so ad-"

Kurt spun around so quickly that he almost lost his balance. "Hmm?"

"Ah...nothing," he answered quickly. "What are you, um, baking?"

"Chocolate chip I'm-sorry-I'm-a-douchebag cookies from Finn for Rachel. What were you going to say?"

Well, damn. He'd been hoping he could avoid that, but Kurt was insanely perceptive. Which sucked, since he seemed to lose his mental filter every time Kurt was around. "Just...you guys are adorable. You seem like you're really close."

Kurt turned to focus on the oven so that Blaine couldn't see the disappointment on his face. "We are now. Things were way hairy for a while."

"Really? That's kind of surprising," Blaine mused, and Kurt's shoulder twitched up in a half shrug.

"Eh. It took a hell of a long time to get over _that _crush, but now I couldn't be any less interested." He shuddered delicately. "How the scent of his socks didn't turn me off immediately, I will literally never know."

"Wait. Whoa." Blaine's hands flew up instinctively in a stopping-traffic gesture. "You...and Finn?"

"I had a deeply pathetic crush on him, yeah." Kurt blushed slightly, grabbing a potholder off the counter and promptly sticking his head in the oven.

"That _cannot _be safe," Blaine observed concernedly as Kurt emerged, donned the potholder, and went for the gold.

"Probably not," he admitted, laughing and setting out the steaming tray. "Oh my GaGa, I am a baking genius. These smell amazing."

"They really do," Blaine agreed. "But if you think you're going to get away with throwing something like that out there and not elaborating, you have got another think coming, mister."

"Hey, I don't ask for stories about your ex-crushes," Kurt protested, but then an absolutely evil spark came into his eyes, and he grinned. "On second thought...tell me a story about one of your ex-crushes, and I'll tell you what happened with Finn."

"What? Unfair, I asked first!"

And his tone was so unintentionally childish that they both couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, c'mon. I tell you stories all the time." (It was actually true. They'd talked every day this week, and Blaine felt as though he'd come to know each member of New Directions like they were his friends, too.) "Besides, this one's embarrassing. And kind of emotionally damaging. I demand blackmail material of my own before I proceed." He was joking, but Blaine's brow creased.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's really-"

"Are they done?" Finn demanded, busting into the kitchen with all the grace of a hippopotamus and bounding over to the stove.

"They're cooling, Finn, don't touch," Kurt admonished, without even really thinking about it. "Have you called her?"

"Not yet," he confessed, glancing longingly at the cookies.

"Finn Hudson, what was the point of making me bake them now if you aren't going to bring them to her tonight? Because I'm fairly certain that I only did it because you convinced me it was an emergency."

"...maybe I just wanted one?" Finn offered, reaching out.

Kurt groaned. "Whatever. _One_."

"Yes!" Triumphant, Finn seized a cookie, apparently not even noticing how hot it was, and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

Kurt carefully slid another cookie onto a plate and offered it to Blaine. "Let's go downstairs." Blaine trailed after him obediently, clutching his plate like a lifeline.

"Aren't you going to eat any?"

"Not hungry," Kurt replied dismissively. "Please don't mind Finn's mess. I highly doubt I'll ever succeed in convincing him that hygiene is a good thing."

Blaine wandered in just behind Kurt, eyes already darting everywhere, trying to take everything in all at once. Even if Kurt hadn't said which side of the room belonged to his almost-stepbrother, it would have been completely obvious. There was a poster of a bikini-clad model on one wall, with a picture of Finn and a girl who must have been Rachel taped to the corner. The plaid comforter was rumpled, half-falling off the bed, and there was athletic equipment and random clothing piled haphazardly all over the floor. Finn's backpack had been thrown in a corner and obviously abandoned, and there was a random magazine lying on top of it (it looked like something suitably manly, and Blaine didn't really have any desire to venture closer and find out what it was).

"I got rid of the empty pizza boxes and nasty cereal bowls," Kurt announced. "You're welcome."

But he had already been so distracted by the rest of the room that he didn't even hear Kurt's words. There were floaty, silky-looking curtains covering the window, and the room was lit with antiquey-looking lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The overall design of the room simply exuded class and elegance. In a far cry from Finn's half of the room, everything was perfectly organized, and on the stretch of wall above Kurt's bed, he had an enormous collage that kind of reminded Blaine of his own corkboard...except completely different. It was almost entirely dominated by photos of New Directions: Kurt and Mercedes, arms slung around each other as they laughed hysterically, apparently unaware that a picture was being taken; Finn in a hideous red dress that looked like it was made of a shower curtain (he'd have to ask about that one one day); Kurt and a man wearing plaid and a trucker hat who could only be his father (he looked vaguely terrifying, but goodhearted); _Kurt _in plaid and a trucker hat, with his arm around a very pretty blonde (again, something he would have to ask about sometime in the very near future); Kurt, Mercedes, a gorgeous Latina, and the same very pretty blonde, all in matching-what the hell?

"Kurt, is that a...cheerleading uniform?"

Kurt's eyes grew to epic proportions. "Um. Yes. It was a phase."

But Blaine's mind was running away with him, and all he could think of were high kicks and pyramids and...high kicks. "Gruh," he managed eloquently.

"It was terrible. Ignore it. Look, there's one of Quinn and Sam...don't you know Sam?"

Blaine shook his head experimentally. "Ah, yeah. He was my roommate before Jim...oh my _God, _he's so blonde."

"I knew it wasn't natural!" Kurt rejoiced, almost tempted for a moment to text Sam and tell him his secret had been revealed. But it seemed entirely too dramatic, and he kind of just wanted his attention to stay on Blaine. "Y'know I actually thought he batted for our team for the longest time."

"Me too," Blaine admitted, sighing "Never actually crushed on him, though, thank God. He's way too obsessed with boy bands for my liking."

"The stereotypical evidence continues to mound," Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "I stand by my conviction that one day, Sam Evans will confess his closeted homosexuality."

Blaine laughed. He couldn't help it. Kurt's overly dramatic tone was just so...so captivating.

"Gra_cious_, I'm telling you all my secrets and I still know practically nothing about you. What is this?" Kurt bemoaned, and Blaine gave in.

"You wanted to know about an ex-crush?" Kurt nodded eagerly, so he continued, forcing himself to look away from all the pictures. "Okay. So, like...gah." Flushing slightly, Blaine dropped his head into his hands. "This is so embarrassing."

"Blaine, I used to be in love with the guy who may very well end up becoming my stepbrother. Seriously, do not even play the embarrassing card."

"I had a thing for my roommate," Blaine confessed, a blush creeping slowly up his neck. "And Jim really couldn't be much straighter if he actually _tried _to be."

Kurt sat up a little straighter. "I'm liking how this sounds so far."

"...I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."

Laughing, Kurt batted a pillow at him. "Oh, don't even. Just speak."

"Are we gonna go _there_? I'm pretty sure you don't wanna test me on this," Blaine challenged playfully, wrestling the pillow free of Kurt's grasp. "Your hair will _so _not survive."

"_My _hair? Blaine, I'm fairly certain a _cyclone _wouldn't budge your hair. I plead no contest, if that's what this competition's about to be."

"You judge unfairly, sir. If you saw what my hair looked like without all this gel, you would understand."

"You've triggered my curiosity now."

"Never. Never, ever going to happen."

"I will find a way, Blaine Anderson."

"Over my dead body, Kurt Hummel."

"I hope not." Kurt smirked, snatching the pillow back. "No pillow fights, they're distracting you from telling me about your life."

"Wah." Blaine pouted. "Fine, but there's not even much to tell. As if it wasn't enough that I had to room with him, he was on the football team, so I saw him in the locker room basically every day, which was incredibly awkward because he's never been the shy type." He blushed despite himself at the admission, and Kurt's jaw dropped.

"Hold up, you played football?"

"Just for one season. I love it and everything, but I'm not good enough to really play. I mostly just rode the bench. Besides, then the collective force that is Wevid made me try out for the Warblers, and you really can't do both. There's not enough time."

Kurt nodded, trying to reconcile his mental image of football players (i.e. assholian goons) with Blaine. What came out instead of something logical was, "Do you have pictures?"

He laughed, blushing even more deeply. "Wes and David might."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt chuckled. "You were saying?"

"Do not ask them. Please. It's just awkward. But anyway, outside of football, I just made embarrassing moony-eyes at him and burned him CDs on iTunes claiming that I needed to, quote, 'broaden his musical horizons,' but actually, I was just putting incredibly cheesy love songs on playlists."

Kurt hid a smile (halfheartedly). "Do continue."

"He would never have figured it out if I hadn't walked in on him with a girl one night."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes." Blaine laughed a little, shaking his head. "I couldn't behave like a normal person and just back out of there with my eyes shut. No, no. I had to let out this extremely awkward and unmanly squeak, stare at her like she was an axe murderer for the better part of thirty seconds, then stutter something completely unintelligible and run away."

"You poor thing," Kurt sympathized, touching Blaine lightly on the shoulder.

"It was terrible. I was a mess for days," he confessed. "But finally, Jim talked to me, apologized for freaking me out, and promised he wouldn't have girls in our room anymore. He never actually addressed my excessively obvious crush, but I'm pretty sure it's better that way."

"So how'd you get over him?"

Blaine shrugged. "I think I was a little mentally scarred from what I'd seen, so with a little time, I was fine. How'd you get over Finn, though? It's not like you really have the option for space."

"It's my own damn fault, too." Kurt groaned. "This is a whole mess of drama. I don't know if you're gonna want to hang out with me after I share all this baggage."

"Unless you killed someone, that's entirely impossible," Blaine announced, with the kind of grin that did things to Kurt's heart. So he told the story, a lot less eloquently than he'd intended (because dammit, Blaine kept making these quiet sympathetic little _sounds _and it was so bad for Kurt's focusing skills).

At some point, thundercloud crossed Blaine's face, and it took a second for Kurt to recall what he'd just said. "He called you a _what_?" '

"Um. Yeah. But it was just that one time," Kurt hurried on, instinctively attempting to defend Finn. "And I know that doesn't make it right-God do I know. But...it was harder for Finn back then. For me, too, but there are certain stories that are not being told tonight. Later, yes. But not right now."

"Okay," Blaine agreed readily, grinning at the adorable flush lighting Kurt's cheeks. "I mean, I can wait."

The implied promise in his words left both of them coughing uncertainly and glancing away. Finally, Kurt, eyes still fixed very carefully on the couch cushion, asked, "Want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. You can choose, if you want."

"My go-to movie of the moment is _The Little Mermaid" _(and _no_, that had nothing to do with the fact that Eric kinda sorta a little bit reminded Kurt of Blaine) "so I'm pretty sure you should pick."

"I'm pretty sure a Disney movie would be amazing, actually. Wes and David never let me watch them. It's deeply upsetting."

"Oh gracious." Clucking his tongue, Kurt launched into action. "Eat your cookie, I'm going to go make popcorn, and you should think about which one you want to watch. They're short."

By the time Kurt had returned, carrying a heaping bowl, Blaine was completely awed. "Kurt. That was the most amazing cookie. There are no words."

The other boy scoffed, trying not to look as pleased as he felt. "I'm glad you liked. Did you get the chance to pick a movie?"

"D'you have _Hercules_, by any chance?"

"Of course! It's classic."

They sat together on the couch after Kurt had set up the DVD player, perhaps a little closer than was absolutely necessary. Blaine convinced himself that doing so just made it easier to share the popcorn.

Maintaining that train of thought got harder, though, when Kurt's head dropped onto his shoulder about halfway through _The Little Mermaid_. Instinctively, he readjusted himself so that Kurt would be more comfortable, and somehow his arm ended up around the other boy's waist.

Kurt, meanwhile, was far too comfortable and sleepy to overthink anything. "Sorry," he slurred as he nestled a closer to Blaine. "I didn't sleep."

"Me either," Blaine confessed. "It's okay."

And when Finn Hudson walked down the stairs two hours later, he found Kurt fast asleep with his arm flung loosely (and unintentionally) across Blaine's body. Kurt's head rested on the other boy's chest. Blaine, too, was sleeping, and right before Finn crept quietly back up the stairs, he realized that their fingers were intertwined.


	4. Sleepovers and Secrets

**Author's Note: Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean for this to take so long. But what happened was, I wrote almost this entire chapter, and then I was like, "DAMMIT, I wanted to write a Kurt-moves-in-at-Dalton chapter!" Even though our dear Mr. Murphy insists he doesn't board there. He does, in my 'verse. :D Regardless, Blaine is making said chapter excessively difficult, so I finished this one for you guys, since your wonderfulness is BEYOND WORDS. (Seriously, 102 reviews for 3 chapters? I want to hug every single one of you and never let go.) **

**I'll do the Kurt moving in chapter, too, if y'all want, it'll just be out of sequence. (Oh, and PS, check out the new poll on my profile, 'kay? I'm floundering a little.) I LOVE YOU ALL! **

_2:33._ Kurt groaned under his breath, rolling away from the glowing red numbers of his roommate's alarm clock and scrunching himself more deeply under the covers. Goddammit, he just wanted to sleep. True, it was a weekend, but it wasn't as though he had anything better to do, and he was exhausted besides. Now, alone in his room, he had nothing better to do than think, which was excessive amounts of not okay. He didn't _want _to keep thinking about how desperately he missed everyone; how disappointingly _reserved _the Warblers had turned out to be...how much he wished he could talk to his mom about the whole thing, her stroking his hair and making soothing, gentle sounds as he wept. _I don't think I've ever missed her so much in my life._

But it couldn't happen, and he was just going to have to deal. It had been a completely insane, ridiculous week of trying to get settled in, and he had been hoping that would have been enough to put him out within minutes of getting into bed. Apparently this was not the case. Unthinkingly, he grabbed his phone out of the pocket of his messenger bag. _Whyyy can't I sleep?_

Not five minutes later, there was a very soft knock on the door, and Kurt, half-delirious, stumbled over to answer it. In the doorway stood a completely adorable, barefoot, flannel-pajama-wearing Blaine.

"Hey," he greeted Kurt, rather pointlessly. "I got your text."

Kurt was so relieved at the sight of someone familiar that he just wanted to hurl himself into Blaine's arms and cry. But he suspected this probably wouldn't be a good idea, so he restrained himself with great difficulty, wrapping his arms protectively around his own torso. "I'm sorry," he rasped, wincing at his own scratchy voice. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I wasn't thinking."

"You didn't," Blaine promised, rolling his head back to crack his neck. "I was up. Do you want to...come over, maybe? Jim's...somewhere. I don't even know."

Kurt blinked owlishly, attempting, in his sleep deprived haze, to understand what was going on; and Blaine, being himself, immediately jumped to conclusions. "I mean, I just figured it might be easier to sleep if you knew there was someone...I..."

"Okay."

"...okay?"

"Okay."

If Wes and David had been there, Blaine couldn't help but muse, they'd have lost their patience with this about twenty minutes ago (which, considering that the whole exchange had taken less than five, was really quite impressive). Fortunately, it was just Kurt, Blaine, and Kurt's peacefully slumbering roommate. "I thought I'd be exhausted," Kurt whined quietly as they wandered down the hallway to Blaine's room. "I _was_ exhausted. But then I just...couldn't sleep." His voice broke, and he rubbed his eyes furiously with his fists.

"It's okay to miss everyone," Blaine whispered, gently putting his hand on the small of Kurt's back as much to comfort him as to make sure he continued moving in the right direction. "I remember my first night here, I spent curled up in the fetal position sobbing uncontrollably. Sam was deeply concerned." Kurt gave a watery little chuckle and sniffled slightly. "Here's me," Blaine continued, gesturing to the door and noticing for the first time what Kurt was wearing. How he'd been oblivious to it thus far, he had absolutely no idea, but Kurt was clad in a tight pair of yoga pants that could only have belonged to him and an absolutely enormous football shirt. It was so big for him, in fact, that it came down to his knees and was actually slipping off his shoulders. Blaine wondered about it with a strange flare of jealousy, but suppressed the urge to ask where it had come from.

Kurt, though, observant even in his current state, plucked at the sleeve tiredly as he followed Blaine into the room and murmured, "It's Finn's. They all...gave me something. To bring with me."

"That's really nice of them." Blaine's heart ached in sympathy as he sat on his bed. Kurt, after a brief moment of hesitation, joined him.

"I teased him about it, of course. Because it's like...poly-blend cotton or something. But..." He was twisting its hem compulsively around his fingers now. "It's actually kind of comforting. Sort of. It smells like him still."

Again with that random surge of jealousy. _They're __**stepbrothers**__, _Blaine reminded himself sternly. _Of course they'd be close. And he's over Finn, anyway. It doesn't matter. Why should it?_ He was tempted to ask what else his friends had given him, to distract himself, but Kurt was blinking rapidly and looking fixedly at his lap, and Blaine was starting to get that maybe he still wasn't ready to talk about it. "You'll get used to being here. I promise. And hey..." Gently, he placed a finger under Kurt's chin and lifted it so that the other boy was looking him in the eye. "...at least you're not alone. You've got me. And Wes and David."

Even in his current mindset, being this close to Blaine made Kurt's heart race. "Th-thanks," he stammered, all thoughts of Wes and David's minor douchebaggery earlier in the week flying out the window with that one, soft touch.

"Of course." With a soft smile, Blaine released his face, and Kurt's eyes widened.

"Your hair." _Dear GaGa_, how in the hell had he somehow failed to _notice _that? (Particularly considering how veryvery close he'd just been to it.)

"...oh." Abruptly self-conscious, Blaine dragged his fingers through his unruly curls in a useless attempt to calm them. "I- - forgot that you'd never..."

"I like it," Kurt admitted, lips quirking up slightly in the corners.

He flushed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His voice was soft. Almost intimate_. _And though Kurt didn't blush, didn't even seem to realize how low and deep his voice had suddenly gone, Blaine reddened, rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"We should get some sleep."

"Right."

Neither boy moved for one long moment, and Blaine finally let out an uncertain half-laugh. "If- - if you don't feel like hunting through the mess to find Jim's bed, there's enough room here. I won't make it awkward or anything, I mean, you don't have to..."

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off, even though his pulse was racing so loudly in his ears that it was practically drowning out all coherent thought, "it's okay. I...trust you." The words felt odd on his tongue, even though he'd used them before with the very same boy. Somehow they felt different now. Heavier, but not in a bad way.

"I'll go turn off the light," Blaine blurted out, and as he scrambled to do so, Kurt curled up near the wall, trying to take up as little space as possible.

The other boy, being that it was almost completely dark (but for the dim desk lamp he'd left on in case Jim decided to come home), couldn't actually see this. He could_ tell_, though, because his bed was feeling a lot less crowded than it should have. "You don't have to..." He sighed, giving up. "Hey, if I, like, take up your space or something, just kick me and I'll move over, yeah? I've got a good amount of room on this side."

He couldn't. Well, _wouldn't. _Wouldn't want to. The fact of the matter was, he kind of just wanted to cuddle up reeeeally close to Blaine and never actually move again. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "Thanks for letting me crash your room. I'm sorry."

"...why are you apologizing? You've got nothing to be sorry for."

Kurt laughed a little, bitterly. "I don't like burdening people."

Blaine sat up so fast that he gave himself a head rush. "Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson."

"I'm pretty sure we've already had this discussion. You are so far from being a _burden _to me that it's not even funny."

"Well, I feel like one," Kurt replied moodily, still facing the wall.

Blaine was so disturbed by this that he couldn't even find the words to express it. "Tell me what I've done to make you feel that way."

That was enough to make Kurt turn to face him, his brow creased in confusion. "What?"

"I want to make sure I don't do it anymore."

Kurt blinked confusedly. "Wh- - Blaine, I didn't mean...it's nothing you're doing, it's just..." He sighed. "It's just...how I am. I don't like to feel so damned _needy _all the time, and lately...lately that's how I've been feeling."

"You should never be afraid to ask for help if you need it," Blaine said softly, fighting the urge to reach out and brush Kurt's hair off his forehead. He looked so young, so innocent, with Blaine's blankets pulled all the way up to his chin and hair slightly mussed. His lips turned down in a slight, worried pout, and he twitched one shoulder in a shrug that Blaine could feel rather than see. "I'm serious," he pressed gently. "I did, but only at the beginning. Not when it was really bad, and now...I really regret it."

Kurt said nothing, but his eyes shimmered blue and encouraging in the soft light. Blaine bit his lip and pressed on. "It was nothing like it was for you. No one tried anything so...vile. But they were- - they got really violent, and...and they'd been threatening me for weeks. I was too afraid to say anything, though. You know how that is. I thought that if I ignored them, it would go away. That maybe they would just stick to the name-calling and, you know...pushing me into lockers and stuff. And I figured telling on them would just make them hate me even more.

"I was in the musical, and we had just finished closing night. I remember I was supposed to get a ride to the cast party with my friend Jenna, but she got waylaid in the lobby because she'd been playing the lead. I stepped outside to wait for her, because it was really crowded, and I'm kind of claustrophobic.

"But they found me almost right away." For the first time, Blaine's perfectly composed facade cracked, and he shuddered. Kurt, wordlessly, and horrifyingly riveted, touched his arm lightly, silently prompting him to continue if he wanted to. He swallowed hard and pressed on. "I don't even know for sure why they were there. Part of me wonders if maybe- -maybe they had planned it, specifically because they knew how happy I would be after the curtain went down, and they wanted to punish me for it.

"t wasn't any different from usual at first. There were five of them, and they all sort of circled me, saying things like, 'Bet you liked prancing around up there, didn't you, fag?'" His voice cracked again and he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to maintain control. "I said a couple things I shouldn't have, trying to joke my way out of it, and then...and then one of them took a swing at me." Kurt gasped, reflexively squeezing Blaine's hand, and the slightly older boy squeezed back gratefully. "I thought that showing fear would be the worst thing I could do, so I...I pretended I was fine. And that was all it took." His voice shook, and Kurt could actually physically sense him editing what he intended to say.

"When I woke up, it was the next day. I had a concussion, three bruised ribs, and a broken arm." He laughed a little, darkly. "I couldn't go back there. I couldn't deal with seeing them. And even my friends...I'd gone to the administration once or twice, but never as it got worse. I didn't feel like they'd do anything to protect me, if they couldn't even stop the smaller things. But what bothered me more than that- -still bothers me, even- -is that I'd never let the people who were supposed to be closest to me know what was going on. They could tell something was up, but none of them ever really did anything. They didn't know what to do, and I can't blame them for that, but I can't help wondering if...if things would have been different if I'd talked to them. Told them the truth, you know?"

He rubbed his face hard and then met Kurt's astonished gaze with such pain in his eyes that it took Kurt's breath away. "It took me weeks before anybody could touch me without me freaking out, and even longer before I dared to let anybody in. What happened...it shoved me back into the closet, and it was...really, really hard to come back out. Dalton- -it was..._is..._a Godsend for me.

"What I'm trying to tell you is...I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. Ever. And no matter what you tell me, Kurt...I will never, ever judge you. And I will _never _think of you as some needy burden. I want to be here for you."

Kurt's eyes filled, and he sniffed deeply. "Thank you," he mouthed, because if he spoke out loud, he was going to cry yet again, and sat up to give Blaine a hug. The other boy let out a shaky breath and sort of melted into Kurt's embrace.

"It's been a long time since I told anybody that," he admitted, his voice muffled by Finn's/Kurt's jersey, resting his forehead lightly against Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm glad it was me," Kurt whispered, instinctively tracing little, soothing patterns on Blaine's back, so full of empathy and genuine _warmth _for his friend that there wasn't even space in his mind to freak out about their proximity. "I- -I wish you hadn't been through anything like that, but at the same time...this is going to sound awful," he realized, wincing.

"You're glad to have someone who understands. Of course you are." Blaine was starting to sound a little stronger again. "...I am, too. You're the first person..." He let out a breath, separating himself from Kurt just enough to tip his head back, staring at the ceiling as though imploring it to tell him what he wanted to say. "The first person I've ever _really_ had who...who knows what it's like."

"They put you in the _hospital_, Blaine. God, I can't even- -" Kurt shuddered slightly, his arms tightening around Blaine without either boy realizing it. "I feel like such a- -"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Kurt Hummel. Seriously." A small, rueful smile bloomed on Blaine's face. "We've both dealt with issues that no one should ever have to face. But we're here now. We're going to be okay. _You're _going to be okay.

"Now let's get some sleep." Suddenly playful, he pulled back, ruffling Kurt's hair.

Kurt gasped, mock-offended. "For that, I'll stay up all night waiting until you fall asleep, then poke you obnoxiously just to wake you up again. It's a spite thing."

"You'd never. You love me far too much," Blaine protested, leaning his forehead up against Kurt's and unleashing the full power of his puppy dog expression. (It occurred to him exactly .003 seconds later that this was _so _not a very mentor-y thing to do, especially considering the relatively short amount of time they'd known each other. But it'd be weird to pull away, right? _Of course it would_. And Kurt being Kurt would probably assume he'd done something wrong, and Blaine simply couldn't have that.)

Kurt's breath caught, and _damn _but it took him a long time before he could figure out how to work his voice. "...your modesty is my favorite thing about you, dear."

"Well, thanks. Can't help it. It's just one of those unavoidable things," he teased, laughing. "Seriously, though, it's so late. And I anticipate Jim coming pounding in at some point tomorrow morning with a hangover the size of Texas that we get to deal with, so we should really rest."

Kurt made a face. "Is that a typical weekend experience?"

"Nah. He's had a bad week though. Jim's never been good at dealing with stress, and his girlfriend just broke up with him on top of it."

"Oh." He still didn't understand it, really. One awful experience with alcohol had been enough to turn him off of it pretty much forever. "What about you?"

"What about me, what?"

"Do you drink?" He honestly didn't know why he was asking, because he was fairly sure he knew the answer- -Blaine really didn't seem like the drinking type.

But he guessed Blaine couldn't be perfect; he couldn't know everything about him. Still, he wasn't expecting what he heard. "I'm hardly an alcoholic. But yeah, I drink every once in a while." He shrugged. "I usually don't drink to get drunk, though. I'm not big into losing control."

"Usually?" His tone was teasing, but he couldn't help but be curious.

"That sounded bad." He sighed. "I never start drinking thinking, 'Damn, I wanna get wasted tonight.' You know what I mean? It just kind of...happens sometimes."

"I can't even really reprimand you. My sole experience with alcohol ended with me puking Chablis all over my obsessive-compulsive guidance counselor's shoes."

"Story?" Blaine asked, perking up slightly.

"No, no, we were talking about you, Mr. Anderson," Kurt retaliated, clucking his tongue disapprovingly. "I disapprove of your attempts to change the subject."

"I think we've completely exhausted the topic of my inability to hold my liquor, actually. Story time?"

"You are incorrigible, I swear to God," Kurt snorted, as his mind promptly conjured up delicious fantasies of other ways he wished Blaine could be incorrigible. _No. Bad Kurt. Inappropriate thoughts. _To distract himself, he blurted, "Weren't you saying something about sleep?"

"Oh, fine," Blaine pouted. "But I _will _get this story out of you one day."

"Noted, good sir," Kurt yawned, and promptly burrowed under the pile of blankets that Blaine apparently required in order to sleep.

It had been silent for maybe ten minutes when Kurt decided that this incredibly squinched-up position was completely not working for him. But when he went to move, he accidentally smacked Blaine in the back of the head, and winced apologetically. "Sorry!" But Blaine just mumbled something incoherent and scooted closer to him. "...Blaine?" Kurt tried uncertainly, but almost soundlessly (because if he was going to be honest with himself, he _really_ didn't want this to end). No response, but for a few more random, nonsensical sounds that totally shouldn't have been as endearing as they were. And then Blaine's arm was somehow flung around his waist and he actually buried his head into Kurt's shoulder. Well.

_...Well. _

Sleep? _Pah. _Sleep was for the _weak. _(Or the people whose hearts didn't currently feel like they were absolutely fucking _exploding _at the general adorableness of the whole situation.)

Except apparently, sleep eventually happened, because then it was suddenly morning and he was waking up with the sun coming in at a totally funky angle and _holy shit_, where _was _he? He jerked upright, looking around wildly, and just as he was starting to freak out a little, Blaine stirred beside him, eyes cracking open and lips twisting into a sleepy grin. "G'morning." Blinking a few times, he seemed to take in Kurt's mindset, because he furrowed his brow and half-slurred, "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, hearing the relief in his own voice as he realized that there wasn't anything to freak out about. "I just forgot where I was for a second."

"Oh." He stretched slightly, letting out an almost-squeak. "I'm so sleepy."

And damn if that didn't completely melt Kurt's heart. "Let's go back to sleep, then," he suggested, and Blaine sighed happily and snuggled deeper under the covers.

"Happy weekend, Kurt," he mumbled, and proceeded to drift off approximately two seconds later. Kurt would have been kind of annoyed by it if it wasn't so cute, because Lord knew he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep now. Still, a tiny smile bloomed on his face as he watched his slumbering friend. His lips were parted slightly, and he looked almost angelic in the soft golden light that poured through the blinds. Kurt fought the urge to brush Blaine's wildly curly hair out of his eyes. Maybe it was silly, but he couldn't help thinking that there was something about how incredibly tame and impeccable Blaine usually looked compared to right now that just tugged at Kurt's heartstrings. He had to wonder if this Blaine and dapper, perfectly put together Blaine could possibly be the same person- -if it was even possible for any one person to have two, apparently somewhat contradictory, and yet somehow completely perfect sides to them.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, just kind of pondering, before the door banged open and an attractive redhead stumbled in. He groaned quietly and lurched toward his desk, where a small bottle sat. Pulling it open, he swallowed two pills dry and flopped dramatically across his bed- -and then he saw Kurt. Eyes widening slightly, he sat up again with what appeared to be way too much effort. "Fuck. Sorry," he breathed, his voice slightly gruff.

Kurt went so red that he thought he might explode. "You're not interrupting anything, I just...couldn't sleep."

"He let you see the hair," the guy replied, as though this made sense, and completely negated everything Kurt had just said.

Kurt blinked. "What?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't usually happen so fast." While Kurt was attempting to make sense of this, Blaine's roommate seemed to realize something. "Oh, right, I'm Jim. I'm Blaine's roommate."

Kurt, unbelievably, had gathered that (sarcasm? _Never_.), but instead of commenting, he just smiled politely and replied, "I'm Kurt. I think we're in the same bio lab?"

"Thought you looked kind of familiar," Jim yawned. "You new?"

"Yeah. I just got here a few days ago."

"Cool." He winced. "Sorry, just..._shit _it's bright in here."

_'No, I think you're just hung over,' _did not seem to be the wisest method of endearing himself to Blaine's friend. So he just grinned awkwardly and muttered something noncommittal, followed by, "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Jim grinned slightly, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a twinge of despair. _He's so..._rugged. _Please tell me that isn't Blaine's type._

"What'd you mean about the hair thing?"

"He's like, ridiculously sensitive about it. Wes and David knew him for two months before he let them see what it looked like without all the gel." Face still twisted slightly, Jim rolled over and grabbed a bottle of water from under his bed, taking a tentative sip. "God, I'm a fucking mess. Sorry you have to meet me while I'm like this. This week was a train wreck."

"I understand. I think it's been a tough one for a lot of people," Kurt replied carefully.

"Blaine's been kind of all over the place this week too," Jim mused, as though he'd forgotten Kurt was there. "One second he's all giddy-happy, the next he's suffering a major attack of the guilties. It hasn't made a whole bunch of sense. Something about some kind of- -oh holy shit."

Kurt's eyes widened at the violent suddenness of Jim's reaction. The other boy had actually bolted upright, and was now clutching his head in obvious pain, but looking extremely triumphant. "You're the spy!"

Kurt groaned, flopping over to bury his face into his (Blaine's) pillow, and very nearly escaping getting a mouthful of Blaine's hair. "I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?" he asked, his voice muted by the fabric.

"Never," Jim confirmed with a cackle. "But no, dude, in all seriousness, he was fer real worried about you."

It took Kurt a moment to decode this, and when he had, he sat back up slowly, blinking, half-expecting to wake up at any moment. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, exactly, but I know he talked about you a lot for the first couple of days after your James Bond fail. Never went into detail, but I kind of figured you've been through kind of a mess?"

"..." How was one supposed to _respond _to that? Especially considering that they'd met a grand total of ten minutes ago.

Thankfully, Blaine stirred then, lifted his head slightly, and then did a double take. "Jim?"

"That'd be me," the redhead replied, with remarkable cheer considering his current physical state. "Morning, sleepyhead. I was just, ah...becoming acquainted with Kurt."

"Oh, God." Blaine pushed himself up on his elbows and shot Jim a glare. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing," he replied, tone dripping innocence. "Just, y'know, getting to know him, is all."

"What'd he do?" Blaine asked Kurt promptly.

"Nothing," Kurt answered, a little dazedly (because had these past few minutes really _happened_?). "You sleep like the dead, by the way."

"I know. It's a problem." He laughed self-deprecatingly, pushing his hair off his forehead. "I've slept through fire alarms. Also, people (okay, Wes and David) coming in and doing things like drawing on my face."

Kurt arched an eyebrow, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "Pictures?"

"Burned them."

"Dammit, Blaine."

"I know, sorry. I really should think these things through, shouldn't I?"

"Absolutely." Kurt narrowed his eyes, playfully angry. "How could you?"

"I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you?" His smile was so charming that Kurt was pretty sure that denying him anything (at all, ever) would have been utterly impossible.

"I dunno, Blaine. How so?"

Blaine's eyes widened comically, and Jim snorted with poorly suppressed laughter. "I was thinking something along the lines of breakfast?"

Kurt pretended to be thinking about it, even though his decision had been made before Blaine had finished his sentence. (Was that pathetic? Dammit, he couldn't even care.) "I guess that might be acceptable."

"Good."

And as Kurt left the room (presumably to go change and moisturize), and Blaine disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, Jim sent out an SOS text.

_Levels of UST reaching critical proportions. & i JUST MET THIS KID. RIDICULOSITY. ACTION MUST BE TAKEN._

Wes Craven and David Hamilton flipped their phones open simultaneously, exchanged a dark look, and nodded.

_Undertaking drastic planning stages._

"It wasn't what you said, Blaine, it was how you said it."


	5. There Is No Clever Name for this Chapter

**Author's Note: Oh my goodness, you guys. I love you _so much. _Your support has been completely unbelievable. Your reviews are what keep me writing. (If anyone else has anything to say about last chapter, I'm certainly not going to turn my nose up at reviews for that one, either, by the way. Not too many people seemed to notice it. ;))**

**Anyway, you're all wonderful! Enjoy chapter 5!**

"This is ridiculous," Wes announced, flopping dramatically across David's bed. "They've known each other for like ten seconds. How the hell is it even possible to already be choking on sexual tension?"

"It's been known to happen before," David, who had always prided himself on being the more romantic of the two, corrected. "God, have you not seen _West Side Story_, you heathen? Still. _Jim_, of all people, shouldn't even be noticing it, let alone SOSing us about it."

"It astounds me that Jim remembers his own name half the time," Wes agreed. "They need to do something about this insanity. Now. Because it's been too damn long since Blaine got some."

"As in, it's pretty much never happened?" David suggested, arching an eyebrow, and Wes nodded fervently.

"That is my point. That one guy so doesn't even count."

"...true." He sighed, sprawling out beside his best friend. "But I can guarantee you that Blaine's convinced himself there's nothing between them but some deeply twisted 'mentorship' or some shit. So what do we do?"

"Gah, I don't know." A long pause. Then: "Sectionals are coming up."

"Um." Very, very slowly, David sat up brow furrowed as he stared at his friend. "Yes, Wesley, we all know that. You've developed a terrifying habit of sleeping with your gavel and muttering to yourself about set lists everywhere you go. Therefore, everyone in the entire school is aware of exactly when sectionals are."

Wes shot him an extremely dignified, long-suffering glare. "Could you let me finish, David?"

He flapped a hand wildly. "By all means. Make your point."

"Who the hell peed in your Cheerios this morning? Jesus." Annoyed by his friend's attacks, Wes rolled his shoulders back and replaced his irritated expression with a cool smile. "As I was saying, sectionals are coming up. And we've all noticed that Kurt's been having a little trouble getting used to the way we run things here."

"Amen, brother," David confirmed, abruptly enthusiastic (and deciding not to point out that Wes had just slipped seamlessly into his 'I am currently talking to a roomful of Warblers' voice, even though it was just the two of them. Some battles were so not worth fighting). "It makes me sad. He looks at us like we just kicked his puppy."

"Does Kurt have a puppy?"

"What?" David blinked rapidly, befuddled. "I was just...it was an expression, Wes."

"I was just asking." He looked wounded. "Puppies are good for the soul."

"I won't even try to deny that."

"So if Kurt had a puppy, we could, like...bring it up here and be like, 'Surprise! Look, he's cuddly and adorable and he missed youuu!'" Wes bounced up and down excitedly, obviously having forgotten that they didn't actually know whether or not Kurt even owned said puppy.

"...I don't think he has any pets."

"Oh. Poop."

"Was that seriously your master plan?"

"No."

"So what was it?" David asked patiently.

"Right. So I was thinking." (Read: it had occurred to him two seconds before he'd opened his mouth to speak.) "Maybe we should let Kurt audition for a solo. He'll feel great about it, we might actually get a decent countertenor soloist for once, Blaine will hear his voice and be unable to continue denying his desire to make mad, passionate love to him...it's win-win-win, really."

"Ignoring the unwelcome mental image, that actually might be a fairly ingenious idea, good sir."

"Of course it was. It came from me. Now let's go ruin Blaine's privacy, because it's not as though he's doing anything that would be embarrassing to interrupt."

David nodded sagely, and then proceeded to pound on the wall as hard as he possibly could and trumpet, "! UNLOCK YOUR DOOOOOOOOOR!"

Something extremely heavy and possibly breakable hit the wall from the other side, making David jump back reflexively. "Shut the fuck up, David."

"Oh, shit, you woke up Jim on a Hangover Saturday. Well done," Wes muttered, wincing.

"...oops." He bit his lip. "...Jim, my darling wonderful lovely friend?"

A low, barely audible groan. "He's at breakfast with Kurt. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah. But can you just tell him to come over when he gets back? Do the puppy eyes if you have to. And tell him it's about something that will make Kurt really happy. But make sure that it doesn't sound like an innuendo, because it actually isn't this time."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And make sure Kurt's not with him!"

"...I know, Wes."

"Well, I'm just making sure!"

* * *

When Blaine returned to the room in search of his gel, hair still wet from the shower, Kurt was back, perched delicately on the edge of his bed and texting furiously. He glanced up when he heard the lock click and promptly froze. Blaine had had the foresight to bring his clothes into the bathroom with him. Which was fan-freaking-tastic, because Kurt was pretty sure his heart couldn't handle seeing Blaine in nothingbutatowel. _Oh God not good thoughts _no, _definitely_ couldn't handle it. But seriously, did his jeans _have_ to hug his hips so perfectly? And was it necessary for him to be wearing a white t-shirt that clung in all the right places and was just slightly see-through in the places where his hair had dripped? "You okay?" he asked, a dimple appearing in his left cheek as he grinned, and Kurt tore his eyes away and focused all his effort on trying to force his heart to remember how to beat. (Funny, but that was one of those things he felt like he probably wasn't supposed to have to do.)

"Fine! Yup, fine. Great, actually," he babbled, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes.

"O...kay." Uncertain, Blaine inched closer. "Are you sure? Because you're not looking at me, and it's making me a little nervous."

Jim snorted unhelpfully from his position cuddled under a million blankets, where he had retreated in an attempt to block out the sun/noise/anything that would make his headache go away. _Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. _Kurt closed his eyes and tried desperately to think of some brilliant lie that would both placate Blaine and not give him away entirely. "Ah, actually...I was..." _come on, brain, work with me here_ "trying not to keep staring at your hair. I like it like this. It's going to make me sad to see it all gelled back." He finished with a cheeky grin and hoped desperately that that hadn't sounded as utterly ridiculous as he thought it had.

An amused squawk escaped the general area of Jim's bed (Blaine picked up a nearby towel and chucked it at his head). "Really?"

"Yes, really," Kurt confirmed, working like hell to maintain his poker face.

"...I could leave it, if you want?"

_Why is that even a question?_ "Well, then, Mr. Anderson, it looks like we're about set to leave," Kurt announced grandly, and got to his feet.

Blaine extended an arm gallantly, and Kurt took it, certain he was grinning like a fool. "Use protection!" came Jim's muffled voice as they strolled out, and Blaine slammed the door in retaliation.

"Sorry about him," he sighed, with a smile that was too damn charming to be fair. "I sometimes wonder if he's been raised by a pack of ravenous wolves."

"I like him, actually. He seems really fun." The word didn't seem to do Jim justice, he mused, but it was the best he could do at the moment, if he didn't feel like launching into a full-scale personality analysis.

"He's great," Blaine agreed quickly. "He can be a little much at first, though."

"Kind of like Wes and David?"

Blaine had a slight spasm in his haste to agree. "Oh my God, exactly!" A look of mild horror crossed his face. "They all find me. How do they all find me?"

Kurt burst out laughing and hip-bumped Blaine lightly. "Blaine Anderson, you have not lived through insanity until you've seen a typical rehearsal at McKinley. I will keep telling you this until you believe it."

"I think I'd really like to meet your other friends. They seem so interesting."

Kurt appraised him thoughtfully. A flock of butterflies seemed to take up residence in his stomach as he realized that hey, for Blaine to meet his friends, he'd definitely have to stick around for a while. Some part of him still didn't believe that this could be true; that a boy like this could really be part of his life- -could actually want to walk down a corridor arm-in-arm with him and let him spend the night when he didn't want to be alone. Things like that didn't happen to people like him.

"Kurt? You with me?" Blaine asked, returning the hip-bump.

"Yeah, sorry. I got a little distracted thinking about how much you'd love Brittany."

Blaine laughed. "She's absolutely hysterical." All the members of New Directions had friended him, Wes, and David on facebook shortly after Kurt had (Blaine suspected they were doing so to make sure the boys were treating Kurt right. They seemed fiercely protective, but he didn't mind. In fact, he thought it was sweet.), so he actually had almost-firsthand experience of the wonder that was Brittany.

"You'll meet them at sectionals!" Kurt remembered, and for a moment, he was excited. And then it hit him. Sectionals. Where he would be competing with a strange glee club and against all of his best friends (excluding one). Yeah. Sectionals.

_Great_.

"So we could go somewhere, if you want, but Saturday brunch is actually pretty good. Want to give it a chance?" Blaine offered, shaking Kurt out of his momentary sadness.

"Wh- -oh, sure!"

It was still pretty early for the brunch crowd- -Dalton boys liked to take advantage of sleep whenever humanly possible, so the fact that it was around 11:00 on a Saturday morning meant that Blaine and Kurt were part of the minority. "Good morning Rosie!" Blaine exclaimed cheerfully, giving the old woman who worked in the dining commons a greeting hug.

She pinched his cheek and returned his embrace with a laugh. "Good morning yourself." She assessed Kurt with a quick once-over and smiled. "Oh, honey, you are absolutely adorable. But you're so skinny. Blaine, fatten him up, you hear me?"

Blaine winked playfully, Kurt's expression of bafflement only adding to his intense amusement. "I'll do what I can."

Kurt was too busy staring from Blaine to Rosie and attempting to make sense of what had just happened to realize that motor skills (i.e. walking) would be helpful in his quest for nourishment. So Blaine, snorting, walked back over and gently steered him toward the food. "Come on, dear," he teased, and Kurt shot him a look that was combination _bitch please_ and_ feel free to continue with the pet names_. (Though, okay, he hid that second one like a _boss_.) So to Blaine, it looked like a partially indecipherable, mostly playful glare.

"Is she everybody's collective grandmother or something?"

"Good guess. And yeah, basically." He grinned. "I'm her favorite, though, so she never cares if I take my stuff outside and eat on the patio, even though we're technically not supposed to. Want? It's nice out for once."

Kurt's instinct was to object, on the grounds of not wanting to risk ruining his hair so early in the day, but...it was Blaine. And, as evidenced by everything that had ever happened between them, ever, he was basically incapable of telling Blaine no. "Sure."

So they gathered their food (Blaine made a big show of making sure Kurt actually put something on his plate that wasn't just fruit, and that involved protein) and then headed for above mentioned patio. Blaine did that thing that he had a tendency to do where he sort of instinctively guided Kurt to make sure the other boy went in the right direction- -which was great and all, but the fact that his hand invariably ended up on the small of Kurt's back always made it damn near impossible for Kurt to breathe. (Not that he was complaining.) He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, and Kurt couldn't help wondering if it was going to be a continuous thing.

"You know, it's kind of sad that most of the time we've spent together over the past week has involved meals," Blaine mused suddenly as he sat down next to Kurt.

The other boy raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Just..." He shrugged, abruptly a little self-conscious. "I dunno. We didn't really get to hang out that much this week, besides last night. Everything's been crazy. Especially for you, I'm sure."

"Ugh." Kurt groaned, actually dropping his head into his hands for the briefest of moments. "They've given me so much makeup work. I mean, I knew I wasn't being taught anything at McKinley, but dear sweet _GaGa_ this is a little ridiculous."

"Well, if you ever need help with anything, you've always got me," Blaine promised, and Kurt's stupid heart had the audacity to skip at the word _always_, as though it meant something so much deeper than it actually did.

He grinned and speared a strawberry with his fork. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do."

"Ugh, anyway. Can we please distract me? I really don't want to think about all the things I still have to get done."

"Absolutely. Choose a topic in three...two...one..."

"I'm liking the lack of uniform. I don't think I've ever seen you in real clothes." It was the first thing that popped into his head, and he felt the heat pooling in his cheeks immediately afterward. Because _really_? Blaine was going to want to talk about this?

"Really? You approve? It's got no labels or anything." Blaine's voice was teasing, but some tiny part of him was kind of curious.

"Please, you look good in everything," Kurt scoffed. "Besides, I approved of Lady GaGa's meat dress, and God knows _that_ didn't come with a label."

Blaine's face registered pleased astonishment for the briefest of moments before he quickly latched onto the new topic. "Pssht, that meat was totally kosher," he joked. "That's a label, right?"

"Duh. Lady GaGa wouldn't be caught dead wearing cow butt."

"Insert terrible pun about your use of the word 'dead' here."

Kurt snorted and tossed a grape at him. "Ew. You're such a loser."

When he grinned, that Godforsaken dimple reappeared, making Kurt's breath hitch. "You love me," he objected, and then his brain caught up with his mouth. _No. Inappropriate words. Bad Blaine. Mentor. You are a mentor._

Fortunately for both of them, Kurt covered his wide eyed oh-God-I'm-so-busted look quickly, letting out a gusty sigh and dramatically splaying his hand across his heart. "I'm caught! Whatever do I do?" _Thank God he's kind of oblivious._

Blaine smirked, grateful that Kurt hadn't seemed to notice his incredible awkwardness. "Knew it." And then he noticed the other boy's plate, and narrowed his eyes. "Kurt Hummel, Rosie will cause me physical harm if you don't eat those eggs."

"She doesn't have to know."

"Rosie knows everything," he replied, so somberly that Kurt couldn't help but let out a little, slightly frightened giggle.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"At least you know now. Within my first month of living here, she was reprimanding me daily about the lack of produce in my diet. And then telling me that lying is a very unattractive trait when I tried to convince her that I had had a salad with lunch or whatever."

He wrinkled his nose. "But I don't like eggs."

"Why'd you get them, then, ya goof?"

"Because you kept bitching that I needed protein."

He pouted. "I'm hurt. I am simply trying to ensure your health, and this is the thanks I get?"

It was a joke, mostly, but for some reason, it hit Kurt hard. Maybe that was kind of pathetic, but he wasn't used to people caring so much about such seemingly insignificant aspects of his life as what he ate for breakfast. Not even Mercedes. He swallowed hard, trying to get a hold of his emotions, and then attempted to smile up at Blaine. "Well, when you put it that way, I think I might have to eat them."

"Good boy," Blaine laughed, winking playfully. Kurt pulled back, feigning offense.

"Am I a dog, Anderson?"

"Of course not. You're a fierce, independent, wonderful person who I'd like to stay healthy so I can hang out with him more often. So eat your damn eggs, Hummel."

Delight warmed Kurt's insides, and he all but beamed. "Well, I really have no choice now. How do I argue that?"

"We'll go out for ice cream or something later to celebrate your successful egg consumption." Blaine added, and maybe it was Kurt's imagination, but there was a sparkle in Blaine's eye that he had never seen when the older boy talked to any of the other Warblers. "And the fact that you survived your first week."

"Quite the accomplishment, believe me." And then, wincing theatrically, Kurt stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth and shot Blaine a betrayed, how-could-you-do-this-to-me look that had the other boy practically in stitches. "Y'know," he commented, after a labored swallow, "I think what happened to Rachel turned me off of these things even more. Actually, I'm pretty sure the last time I ate them was well before the St. Jackass fiasco."

Blaine's brow creased. "Huh?"

"I can't believe I haven't already told you this. It's pretty much one of the biggest Rachel Berry dramas of all time. I did tell you she was a vegan, right?" He nodded, so Kurt went on. "So Jesse St. James tried to seduce Rachel last year, and actually kind of succeeded. She was convinced she was in love with him for a while. But then there was this whole big drama that basically culminated in Vocal Adrenaline setting her up and egging her in the parking lot. And he was going to McKinley at the time- -he had to have been the one to set her up. Then he was the one to crack the final egg. Right on her forehead."

Blaine looked nauseated before Kurt could even finish speaking. "God. That's awful."

"He's an asshole of epic proportions," Kurt confirmed, stabbing the eggs violently. "I didn't even really like her much back then and I was about ready to murder him."

"Of course. She's your teammate." Blaine shook his head. "I knew Vocal Adrenaline had a thing about loving to psych out the competition, but that's just...disgusting."

Kurt shuddered delicately. "I just hope I don't have to see him again. I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself."

His eyebrows inched up. "I don't mean to sound patronizing, but I'm honestly curious. What do you think you'd do?"

"Dunno." Kurt pondered this even as he unthinkingly continued to eat his breakfast (because somehow, it was easier to eat now that he could focus on the fact that Blaine's ohmygodsogorgeous warm brown eyes were focused attentively on his face instead of the fact that he was eating chicken embryo). "Probably nothing too terrible. It's not like I'd try to beat him up or something, even if I did think I could take him. I suspect I'd say a large number of scathing, inappropriate and hopefully extremely offensive things, using language that may not be suitable for children."

Blaine laughed so hard he almost choked on the grape he'd just put in his mouth. "Kurt, you're fantastic."

The other boy primped, lifting his chin mock-haughtily. "I know."

It was funny, Blaine mused as he watched Kurt. For people who didn't really know him, he seemed to be so confident, so...well, _carefree_ wasn't quite the right word. But one certainly wouldn't be able to tell how much he'd been through, how much he'd had to rise above just to get here. And he wondered at Kurt's characteristic, slightly cocky proclamation. Because he was joking, yes, but...how did he feel about himself, really? That was one thing Blaine could never really work out. There were times when he seemed incredibly comfortable in his skin, and times like last night when he was curled up in the fetal position, wishing for nothing more than to disappear...

"Blaine? Hello?"

He blinked rapidly, his reverie abruptly shattered. "Sorry. I got really distracted."

"Uh, I kind of figured. You were staring at me for like ten minutes." _Do not blush, do not blush, do not...dammit, too late._

"That is a gross exaggeration, sir," Blaine objected. "It's been maybe two."

It was so not acceptable that Kurt's first thought was, _would it be so terrible to stare at me for ten minutes?_ Instead of vocalizing it, though, he shook his head to banish it and asked, "What were you thinking about that had you so wrapped up?"

Blaine, on the other hand, spoke without thinking. "You."

_Oh my God. Oh my God, I'm pretty sure I've had dreams that have involved this moment._ "Wh-what about me?"

_Shit, I said that out loud. _"I'm just...glad you're here. Glad you're safe." He smiled bashfully, because if he was going to do this, then dammit, he was going to do it right. "I was worried about you, you know? We haven't known each other that long but...I feel like you're one of my closest friends."

Kurt looked down shyly for a moment. "Me too. I meant what I said when I told you I didn't know how I'd have gotten through the whole Karofsky thing without you. I told you things I was too afraid to admit to other people."

Blaine could feel the flush climbing up his neck. "I'm flattered. But you give me too much credit. And not enough to yourself." I_ wish I could be as good as you seem to think I am._

Kurt shrugged, and for a while, silence reigned. But it wasn't long before Kurt's insatiable curiosity had resurfaced. "Blaine? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What's your family like?"

It brought Blaine up short for a moment, because to be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure he knew how to answer. "What do you want to know about them?"

Kurt shrugged. "I'm just...curious, I guess. Tell me- -tell me about your mom." He wasn't sure why he wanted to hear about her, or what masochistic part of him thought this would be a good idea, but once he'd said it, he didn't want to take it back.

Blaine's eyes widened. Kurt rarely talked about his own mother, but he knew that she had died when he was eight, and that she had been the person he'd loved the most in the entire world. "Are you sure? I mean- -"

He nodded. "It's okay."

At first, Blaine was tempted to be careful, almost clinical, in his descriptions of her, if only to spare Kurt's feelings. But at the mere thought of her, he realized that wasn't really an option- -that he could never actually talk about her so emotionlessly. Especially considering what else there is to say. "My mom...she's gorgeous. She's got the most beautiful laugh in the world, and no matter how busy she's been or how exhausted she is, she's always willing to sit on the phone with me for hours to talk about my day. She went to every soccer game, comes to every performance...she's the one who found Dalton and convinced my dad that it would be a good place for me after- -after what happened. She's..." He shook his head, eyes fluttering shut as he thought about her. "She's indescribable. And I don't know how she ended up married to my dad."

The abrupt shift in Blaine's tone took Kurt by surprise. He'd always imagined that the Andersons had a perfect home life. How could Blaine have turned out so wonderfully if that wasn't the case? "What do you mean?"

"You know how you told me that when you were a kid, your dad taught you how to find your way around in the garage? And that even though you used to hate it..."

"I realized that it was his way of trying to spend time with me? Yeah, I remember." Something in Blaine's voice- -a hint of barely suppressed pain that Kurt heard lurking under its surface- -almost cut deeper than hearing about the older boy's mother. This story was not going to end happily, he could tell.

"My dad wasn't like that." Blaine swallowed. "He had had his heart set on a son when he found out that my mom was pregnant, and a son who preferred playing with Barbies to playing war games or whatever didn't make any sense to him. My mom tried to convince him that it didn't matter what I liked, that I was their child and they should support me either way, but...he just didn't see it that way.

"He was never mean or abusive. He just...wasn't around much when I was younger. And once I got old enough, he started teaching me whatever he could about cars. I think he hoped that by getting my hands dirty, he'd be able to force the gayness out of me or something.

"And not long later, the bullying started. He was angry on my behalf, yes, because even though I was a disappointment, I was his son. So he tried to convince me that the best thing I could do would be to...fake it. They'd leave me alone if there was nothing to mock me about. And I thought maybe that was true, so, like I told you before, I joined the soccer team. I actually really liked football, but I knew I wasn't nearly good enough to make the team, and most of the people who took pleasure in my misery were on it (kind of like it was for you), so I didn't bother trying. When that didn't work, my dad suggested a girlfriend."

Kurt's breath caught. "What did you do?"

"I tried it." He sighed. "I was a kid, I was stupid. I knew I didn't like any of my girl friends the way the other guys did, but I didn't know what else to do. So I asked my best friend to go out with me. We lasted about a week before she realized that I wasn't interested in her that way and dropped me." He smiled slightly. "She kept saying I didn't have to be afraid of who I was. I think she knew all along.

"But she was proof that I had been right when I thought that I was different, that not everybody felt the way that I did. And after that, I didn't want to hide anymore."

There was a lump in Kurt's throat, and he covered Blaine's hand gently with his own. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's okay." He sighed. "It made me stronger. And my dad and I...we're getting better. Slowly, but it's happening."

"I'm glad." The soft smile Kurt offered him was so warm and genuine that Blaine couldn't linger any longer on the negative. Not while he had such an amazing friend in front of him.

Their conversation continued for quite some time, flitting from topic to topic, but remaining mostly lighthearted- -and then Kurt happened to glance down at his phone. "Oh my God. We've been here for hours."

"Really?"

"It's after one." He made a face. "As much as I really don't want to leave, there are eight million assignment insistently calling my name..."

"Right, of course." Blaine got to his feet with a slightly regretful smile. "Remember, if you need help with anything, or you just want a break...I'm right down the hall."

"Oh, trust me, I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Wes and David's Call of Duty marathon was tossed aside the moment their phones buzzed. **_Blaine's back. Sending him over._**

Whatever Jim said was done too quietly for either boy to hear (not that they were sitting with their ears pressed up against the cold concrete, eagerly attempting to eavesdrop or anything. Psh. Nonsense, that.), but either way, Blaine walked in a few minutes later, hair still curly and actually not dressed in uniform for once.

Wes almost choked on his tongue. "Has Kurt seen you recently?"

Blaine gave him the kind of look he reserved when one of his friends said something particularly idiotic. "No, Wes. I went to breakfast with him, but he kept his eyes shut the entire time."

"Unnecessary sarcasm," he pouted. "I'm offended."

"I'm sorry," Blaine replied insincerely. "What did you want, again?"

"You're being a buttface," David announced, with all the maturity of a petulant three-year-old. "Stop it."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he relented, plunking down in David's desk chair. "You were saying?"

"We want to let Kurt audition for a solo for sectionals," Wes announced bluntly, tapping his gavel lightly against the headboard. David wrenched it from his grasp and tossed it lightly across the room and onto Wes's own bed, ignoring the other boy's slight, strangled gasp. "Thoughts?"

Blaine was pretty sure he looked like a little kid at Christmas. This was just what Kurt needed! If anything would show him that he had a place at Dalton, this would be it. "It's perfect," he breathed, without even making the conscious choice to speak.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Wes and David exchange a smug, triumphant look. "We thought you'd say that."

"Do us one favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't tell him yet."

"What? Why not?"

"Hypothetically, we have to discuss this with the rest of the council, not that they'll have a problem with it."

"Hypothetically, you _are_ the council. You're the only ones that ever make any decisions," Blaine objected, folding his arms. Some tiny corner of his mind recognized that he was being a bit childish about the whole thing, but waiting for the rest of the council to approve the idea meant more than likely having to wait until a weekday, when he'd have to find some way to tell Kurt quickly, before it got ruined by another Warbler.

"We'll let you know by Monday morning. Promise. That way you can be the first to tell him."

"Good." Blaine nodded resolutely. "Hey...thanks, you guys. I think this will be really good for him."

"That's what we figured," David replied, beaming proudly.

"You do realize how hard it's going to be for me not to tell him about this, don't you?" Blaine added, staring at his friends balefully.

"You'll live!" Wes announced cheerfully. "Now out. Go do something inappropriate with your spy."

"Fuck you," Blaine answered blithely as he wandered out, making both boys gasp.

"Oh my God, he swore!" David exclaimed. "This is huge, boys. This is _huge_."

"...you do realize it's just me in here, don't you?"

"Shut up. Don't ruin this moment for me."

* * *

_You can tell him today._

Blaine smiled despite himself at David's text message and slipped his phone back into the pocket of his blazer. It was early Monday morning, and it had been murder to hang out with Kurt on Saturday night (he had promised him ice cream, after all) without letting slip what he knew. (Not that it hadn't been fun, of course.) Fortunately, he and Kurt had already memorized each other's schedules, so he knew exactly where to find the other boy.

And sure enough, there he was, only a few feet ahead. "Kurt! Wait up!" he called, and was gratified when Kurt immediately turned around.

"Blaine!" he exclaimed, sounding tired, but pleased. "What's up?"

"I've got a surprise for you," he announced happily, and then launched into his news. He was only half paying attention to the things that he was saying, which he knew probably wasn't the best idea. But he couldn't help it. Kurt had spent the majority of weekend poring over his books, and he looked so exhausted, so overwhelmed, that Blaine just wanted something he said to make his friend smile. (Which, naturally, meant that he was staring at Kurt's face in what may or may not have been a slightly creepy manner, paying more attention to the nuances of his expression than the things coming out of his own mouth. Totally normal behavior, obviously.) He said something about rewards for good attitudes, and Kurt's eyes finally began to light up, as though he couldn't suppress the hope anymore. "So...we want to invite you to audition for a solo!" he finished finally, beaming.

Kurt's entire face brightened; even his posture improved. "For sectionals?" he breathed, as though he couldn't quite believe his ears, and_ God _but he looked beautiful right then, and- -_wait, what?_

"For sectionals," he confirmed, patting Kurt lightly on the shoulder. _Where the hell did that come from? Not that he's not beautiful, just...oh, hell._ "Sing something good!" he blurted, and rushed away before he could do/say/continue to think something stupid.

_Oh, God, I am such an idiot._

**Thoughts? Suggestions? Prompts?**

**Also, if you feel so inclined, check out "Because You Make Me Sick," and then go respond to the poll on my author page. I'm still a little iffy on what to do when I get to Silly Love Songs. :)**


	6. There Is Angst and Roommates are Awesome

Kurt would be lying if he tried to pretend he hadn't ended up spending the majority of his evening scouring his iPod for the perfect solo audition song; and that upon finding it (Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," in case you were wondering, though he flip-flopped between that and "A New Day Has Come" for an undisclosed and rather embarrassing amount of time.), he had practiced it so many times that Paul actually had a good portion of it memorized by this point. Even though he was a football player who had absolutely no interest in being part of the Warblers (and yes, discovering that his roommate was a jock had been terrifying for the first couple of days), Paul had been more than okay with Kurt singing for hours on end, occasionally asking questions that Paul himself couldn't answer, though he tried to. Paul had wholeheartedly supported Kurt's song choice, which was gratifying, but still, Kurt mused as he finally climbed into bed, he wasn't sure that he was entirely ready. Auditioning for the "Defying Gravity" solo had been an entirely different beast in so many different ways.

_I need Rachel._

It was a thought he was pretty sure he had never had before, and it was a seriously weird experience to be having it now, but once it had entered his head, he couldn't shake it. Much as he hated to admit it, no one knew how to kill a ballad quite like Rachel Berry, and he was hoping that if he could pull off getting this sectionals solo, maybe everything else at Dalton would fall into place a little more easily.

So, really, there was only one thing he could do.

_Blaine, can you do me a favor?_

It worried Blaine a little to be getting this sort of text first thing in the morning, but he typed out a response instinctively. _**Of course. What's up?**_

Kurt bit his lip. There were probably a lot of ways of dealing with this, but dammit, if he wanted to have any hope of getting to Lima in time to talk to Rachel, he'd have to leave soon. There wasn't much time to waste beating around the bush. _Is Jim still in there?_

Blaine's heart gave a strange twinge, and he glanced over at his lounging roommate, who appeared not to notice or care that class was starting in fifteen minutes. _**Yeah, he is. Do you need him for something?**_

_Perfect_. He'd have been fucked otherwise. He so couldn't afford to get busted for cutting class. _Can you tell him I'm not going to bio and ask if he'd mind telling Ms. B for me?_

...oh. Was that all? The relief lasted for a fraction of a second before it was replaced with concern. _**Sure, definitely. Are you sick or something? Do you want me to come over?**_

_No, no, I'm f_

He halted, backspacing. Maybe it would be a good idea to tell Blaine what he was actually going to do. Just...in case. He shook his head to banish the morbid direction his thoughts had taken.

_Be there in a sec_. "Jim. Jim." He chucked a pillow at his roommate's head to get his attention; the redhead popped his earbuds out and arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"Violence," he pouted, hugging the pillow to his chest. "You're never gonna get this back, Anderson."

"Unless you're bringing it with you to class, I completely disagree." He smirked. "You do realize you have to go to class today, James?"

"Shneh," Jim protested, shooting Blaine a "do not call me James" glare. "Don't want."

"Yeah, well. Kurt's not going, so he wanted to know if you could tell her for him."

"Should I say he's sick?"

"I don't know. He says he's not, but I don't know what is wrong, so..."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "I'll tell her he's feeling sick and didn't want to risk infecting the rest of us with whatever heinous disease is plaguing him. She'll have to accept that."

Blaine's eyes widened, but he just shrugged. "Cool, thanks. I'll see you later."

"Have fun," he replied airily, waggling his fingers in a halfhearted wave as Blaine walked out.

Paul was long gone by the time Blaine knocked on Kurt's door, and the other boy looked almost shy when he opened the door. Blaine heard himself gasp at the sight of him; he was in street clothes, which was something that Blaine still wasn't quite used to.

"Your...hey," he said, awkwardly. "Wh- -you look...good."

"Thanks." An entirely too endearing shade of bright pink lit his cheeks, and he backed up to let Blaine in.

"So why are you...what are you doing?" he asked, sitting cautiously on Kurt's desk chair.

Here goes. "Ah...I've got to take care of something at home," Kurt hedged, avoiding Blaine's eyes on the pretext of getting a scarf to accessorize with.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mmhmm. I just really need to go back to McKinley. To talk to someone about something."

Blaine's heart actually stopped for a second. _No_, he thought wildly, immediately. _He can't go back, he can't, it's not safe, I can't let him go._ "Wh- -but I- -"

"I'll be back for Warblers practice," Kurt rushed on, going for a charming smile.

_Oh. He's coming back._ Feeling slightly foolish, but fears not entirely abated, Blaine pressed on, "I'm not going to try to stop you..." (which was mostly true) "...but are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Probably not," Kurt admitted. "But I'll be careful. I really do miss them. I just want to see them for a few minutes." He wasn't being a hundred percent honest, and a miniscule part of him felt bad about it, but he knew Blaine was far less likely to argue with the homesickness thing than he would be if Kurt had told him he simply needed audition advice.

"Kurt, that's really not safe," he protested. "Do you absolutely have to go?"

"Well, I...no, but I really want to." He looked at Blaine pleadingly. "Please don't try to talk me out of it."

Blaine's mouth snapped shut. Skipping school to visit family or something would have been one thing, but now that Kurt had confessed that his actual destination was the place he'd fled from in terror not long ago...Blaine shivered. "You're going to go no matter what I say, aren't you?"

_There's a thing or two I can think of that could make me stay._ "Probably," he answered instead. "But I...don't want it to...be a problem. For us." He went bright red the moment he finished the sentence; it hadn't come out quite like he'd thought it would in his head, and _dammit_, he'd made it sound like he and Blaine were a couple or something, and Blaine had probably noticed but was being too polite to say anything. _Shit_.

"Okay," Blaine sighed finally, because he was pretty sure giving in was his only option at this point. "I completely understand, I just...please be careful. Please. And text me when you get there. And when you're leaving."

"Okay, Dad," Kurt teased, but it really did make him feel a lot better to know that Blaine would be waiting for him, and that if, for some reason, he wasn't able to text him, that the other boy would be able to...well, find help. Or something._ Oh, God, not a good thought process._

"God knows I'm hardly your father," Blaine blurted and, and _whoa_, holy crap, he'd just said that out loud. "...sorry. I really don't know what that was supposed to mean."

Kurt was too busy trying to remember how to breathe to be able to answer for a second. "Well, it's true," he rasped finally, clearing his throat. _Thank GaGa._

"Here, you know what?" Abruptly having an epiphany, Blaine dug into the pocket of his slacks and jingled his keys. "Take my car."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Blaine, I am not going to drive your Ferrari. I would be in a panic the entire time."

"Incorrect, sir." He tossed the keys into the air, and Kurt caught them reflexively. "I went home last weekend, remember? Switched cars."

"You have more than one car?"

"Nah, its actually my mom's."

"But I feel bad. Blaine, you really don't have to- -"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to. I don't want to risk anything happening to you."

Kurt shuddered slightly. The idea of getting discovered and getting his tires slashed or something had been haunting him on and off, but he'd woken up so set on the idea of talking to Rachel, and so tired of letting fear control his life, that he'd done everything he could to forget that the possibility even existed. "Okay," he conceded, and Blaine's whole body relaxed

C'mon, I'll walk you."

"You're late," Kurt pointed out. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

"I'm already late, so what's an extra five minutes?" he countered, and Kurt frowned.

"I'm sorry. I didn't plan for that to happen."

Blaine glared half-playfully. "Don't apologize for things there's no reason to be sorry about. Now let's go. If we don't get a move on you'll hit all the rush hour traffic."

* * *

"Someone's distracted today," Wes teased, poking Blaine lightly in the shoulder. "I'm sure Mme. Laroche will be thrilled to have you so focused next period."

"Shut up."

"What's your problem, anyway?"

Blaine was too busy trying to sneakily check his phone to bother editing his thoughts. "He hasn't texted me yet."

"Who? Because I can't figure it out without having to ask."

Blaine shot him a withering glare, and David piped up, "What are you so desperate to hear from him for, anyway?"

"Because he's not _here_," Blaine hissed, glancing down at his innocently blank screen for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

"Blaine," Wes began, cautiously, "he isn't in this class."

"No, I mean he isn't even in Westerville. He's on his way to Lima," he whispered, watching his calc teacher out of the corner of his eye to make sure he wasn't noticing how distracted they were.

"What? Why?"

"He didn't exactly tell me, but he implied that he's really homesick."

"And you let him go?"

Blaine bit his lip. "I wasn't going to. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea, but he wasn't going to listen to me. So...I let him take my car. I figured that was the best I could do to make sure he'd be safe."

Wes nodded thoughtfully, slipping his phone inconspicuously out of his pocket. I_ haven't seen him this twitchy since he first transferred. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?_

_**That maybe we looked at the whole thing wrong? That maybe what we think is Blaine being completely into this kid is actually Blaine finally finding someone who really understands what he's been through, and maybe it's just good for both of them to have someone like that in their lives?**_

_...yeah, basically._

_**I don't know. I still think it could go either way.**_

Blaine's phone buzzed quietly then, and all three of them jumped. "Is it him?" David whispered, leaning closer. But the relief on Blaine's face told them both everything they needed to know.

* * *

_I'm here._ Kurt shot a nervous glance toward Karofsky's ancient Jeep, and his hands hovered uncertainly over the keys, wondering if he should ask Blaine what was the best way to avoid any issues. He'd managed to get to McKinley fairly early, and as far as he knew, Rachel was still in class, so technically, he could wait and hope that Karofsky would leave campus for one reason or another at some point. If he remembered correctly, the jock was never willing to subject himself to the horror of the cafeteria food, so he would have to leave eventually to go get something else to eat.

He contented himself with scrunching down in the driver's seat so he could see out the windshield, but it would be a lot harder for anyone glancing toward the car to know who was sitting in it. Part of him wished that he could talk to Blaine while he waited, but he knew his friend was in class, and he felt bad enough about making him late to his morning classes as it was. But his phone buzzed, comfortingly, and Blaine's name lit his screen. _**Are you out of the car yet?**_

_No_, he admitted, _Karofsky's car's still here. I'm trying to wait it out. I think he'll probably leave soon._

_**Even if he does, call me when you're walking in, okay? Just in case. People will be less likely to mess with you if you have someone to hear what's happening.**_

_Aren't you in class?_

_**Don't worry about that. Promise?**_

_Promise. :)_

When Karofsky appeared about forty-five minutes later, Kurt's entire body tensed, and he slid further down in his seat, hoping to conceal himself entirely, fingers instinctively straying to check that the doors were locked (they were). He'd been alone, which meant that Azimio and the others were still wandering around; Kurt held his breath and double-checked his surroundings, and when he was certain they were clear, quickly dialed Blaine's number.

* * *

Blaine's hand shot up the moment he felt his phone going off, and he bumbled his way through _may I go to the bathroom _in French. Mme. Laroche's eyebrows drew together disapprovingly, but she nodded; he hurried out the door and ducked out of sight. "Kurt?"

"Hi." The other boy's voice was slightly breathless. "He left, but I think a few of the others are still around. You're not skipping class to talk to me, are you?"

"Nope," Blaine lied smoothly. "Where are you?"

"Walking down the hallway. Class already started, so the halls are totally empty." He bit his lip. "Thank you, though. I...I do feel safer this way."

"Of course." He laughed a little. "So what are you going to do?"

"Look for Rachel. And Mercedes, and the others. But I think it'll be easiest to find Rachel, coz we had study hall together." _And if I were being completely honest, I'd tell you that she's the one I'm mainly worried about finding._

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you," Blaine replied warmly, and at that moment, a classroom door nearby opened to yield Azimio. Kurt froze, clutching his phone closer to his ear, breath quickening. Azimio paused, too, eyes narrowing. "Kurt?" Blaine prompted. "You there?"

"Yeah," he breathed with effort, "yeah, I'm here, sorry. I- -I'm here."

"What's wrong?" Blaine's voice was abruptly alert. "Is someone there?"

"Yeah." He was still staring, holy shit, why was he still staring?

"Okay. Alright, just...try to keep calm and keep talking okay? I'm right here. He can't do anything to you while I'm here."

"I'm not sure that's going to make a difference," Kurt murmured, studiously avoiding Azimio's harsh glare. "I mean, I hope it does, obviously, but...I don't know."

"Does it seem like he's going to come do something to you?"

"No, not...not exactly." There was an indistinct shout from inside the classroom, and Azimio rolled his eyes and disappeared. Kurt let out a huge breath. "Gone."

"Thank God. Stay on with me, though. And have somebody walk you out when you're leaving, okay?"

"I'll do what I can," Kurt promised, breaking into a trot. Auditorium, he just had to get to the auditorium and everything would be fine. Because that was where Rachel spent the vast majority of her free time, and he highly doubted that today would be an exception. And sure enough, he could hear the faint strains of the piano through the door. "She's in there. I'm gonna go...thank you so much, Blaine."

"Of course. Any time, you know that."

* * *

He got back to Dalton ten minutes before Warblers practice was set to start, and all but ran to get to the auditorium in time. "Slow your jets, man, where's the fire?" Jim teased good naturedly; and then added, winking, "You feeling any better?"

"Much. Thanks." Kurt returned the grin happily.

"Glad to hear it."

He was to be the first person to audition, which he guessed was good. Auditions sucked royal ass, and he'd be at his most composed and fabulous if he didn't have to sit there stewing about it for fifteen minutes beforehand. And as the opening strains of "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" (an admittedly rather brilliant suggestion from Rach) poured out of the speakers of his portable CD player, he felt himself relaxing slightly into the performance.

He was hitting his stride before long, encouraged by the gentle gleam in Blaine's eyes, and just as he started to lift his arm, like he'd been coached, he noticed Blaine shaking his head ever so slightly. Abruptly uncertain, he dropped it, but now he didn't know what to do with his arms at all. They were just...hanging there. And oh God, had he just ruined his entire audition because of some stupid musical theatre impulse? Without even realizing it, he started twisting his fingers together anxiously, desperately trying to focus on the vocals. He could still fix this, he could still hit it out of the park. He could.

And then it was over.

And then, honest to God, he had no idea how he'd gotten there, but he was outside, waiting with Nick and Jeff, both of whom looked like they were going to throw up or something. Some small part of him took pride in the fact that he was more composed than they, at least outwardly; but then again, inwardly, his heart felt like it was about to explode, and somebody needed to just get the hell out here and tell them what was going on.

As though Blaine had heard his thoughts (because really, why not? He seemed to know everything anyway.), he suddenly burst through the double doors, beaming. "Hey, guys," he greeted them brightly. "Nick, Jeff..." Kurt's heart caught. Was this the moment when he'd get his first- - "congratulations! You're moving on."

...

_Oh_.

Jeff and Nick leapt to their feet, throwing their arms around each other in sudden, unsuppressed joy and rushed back toward the auditorium. Neither seemed to even remember that Kurt was sitting there.

Well, great.

Blaine was watching him, wearing an expression that Kurt couldn't quite read; he twisted his lips into a bitter smile, crossing his legs daintily at the ankle and hoping he didn't look as hurt as he felt. "Any sage advice?"

Blaine smiled ruefully, appearing to ponder the least offensive way of articulating his thoughts. Finally, sounding almost pained, he offered, "Don't try so hard."

"I didn't realize caring was frowned upon," he replied, trying and failing to keep the bite from his voice. This from Blaine? Blaine, who had texted him to have courage _every single goddamn day_ for weeks, Blaine who had held his hands and told him how amazing he was, how the last thing he should ever do was change? Now all of a sudden, if Kurt wanted to fit in here, he needed to tone it down and become someone he wasn't? Who was this person he was talking to? Because it sure as hell wasn't the Blaine Anderson he knew.

And now he only seemed irritated. "I don't know how it worked at your old school, but did you notice that we all wear uniforms around here?" Kurt drew back, and Blaine's voice softened, ever so slightly. "It's about being part of the team."

_Right. At McKinley, I didn't shine bright enough, and here I'm too over the top. What the hell am I supposed to do? _Overwhelmed, he tried for a blithe shrug. "I guess I'm used to having to scream to get noticed."

"Kurt, you're never gonna make it as a Warbler if all you care about is getting noticed."

Flinching, he fixed his eyes on the gleaming, scuff-free marble floor. "You're right," he mumbled, grateful only for the fact that his voice didn't waver. "I'm sorry."

He heard rather than saw Blaine moving closer. "I know it'll take some getting used to," he murmured, and it sounded almost like an apology. "But you'll fit in soon enough. I promise."

By the time Kurt had looked up, Blaine was gone.

* * *

"How'd he take it?" Jim asked worriedly. "Dunno why, considering that I've known him for like thirty seconds, but I feel like denying that kid anything is like kicking an adorable, homeless puppy in the face."

Blaine fell back against the door and buried his face in his hands, groaning. "I'm a complete asshole."

"What'd you do?" His voice was abruptly stern, which would have been kind of funny (considering the source) if Blaine didn't feel so completely awful.

"I- -I kind of completely fucked up comforting him."

Jim winced at the uncharacteristic profanity. "How'd you manage that?" Blaine mumbled something from between his fingers, and Jim's eyebrows went up. "I heard something about an elephant, and I'm pretty sure that's not right."

A strangled half-laugh escaped the other boy, and he lifted his head. "I said he'd never, um. Never make it as a Warbler if all he cared about was getting noticed?"

"...what in the actual _fuck_, Blaine?"

"I know! I know." Miserable, he looked at Jim pleadingly. "I didn't mean it."

Jim just stared at him.

"Don't look at me like that."

"This is really weird for me, okay? I'm used to being the lectured, not the lecturer. I don't know if I can do it."

"So don't," Blaine suggested tiredly. "I don't need you to, I already feel bad enough as it is."

"I'm just wondering, though. How come you said it?"

"I don't know."

More staring.

Blaine sank to the ground, resting his head on his knees. "I think...I think I've gotten used to being careful. About...me. You remember what I was like when I came here? How hard it was for me to open up to people?"

"Yeah, of course."

He sighed quietly. He'd never even really thought about this, but now that he was saying it, he was almost certain it was true. "So I think that...I think that since some part of me wasn't...still isn't ready to be so open about myself since I'm so used to minimizing those parts of my personality...I didn't know how to deal with it. And it only made it worse that the council was obviously uncertain about how _vibrant_ he is. I hated hearing Thad say that maybe he was too over the top to be a Warbler; because I just...I _so_ want him to be happy here. I want everyone to like him- -want them to see what a great friend he is. So when I went to talk to him, I was...all over the place. I didn't know how to feel or what to do. It was like word vomit. I wasn't even conscious of what I was saying."

"While there's like, a role reversal thing going on here, can I use this moment to give you some advice?"

"Please."

"I think you should tell him that."

Blaine shook his head immediately. "I can't. I can't tell him that there was any kind of uncertainty about him, or it'll kill him. I can't put him through that."

"Well, yeah, but you have to talk to him. It's gonna suck a lot less than you think it will. You and Kurt are ridiculously tight considering that you've how long you've known each other. Apologize to him. Just explain that whatever came across in what you said wasn't what you meant. This gets me very far in life. And if you compliment him a lot, it's possible that you won't even have to try to figure out what you meant to say, because he might not ask."

Blaine made a face. "I don't want to be fake with him, though. He doesn't deserve that."

"So be real. M&Ms?"

"_What_? No. No, thanks."

"Kay. But anyway, like I was saying, you're not being fake. You really didn't mean it, so...just tell him that. Besides, it kinda seems like this kid isn't that used to compliments, so they might be good for him. Dunno, just a feeling I get. But anyway, c'mon. Let's go get food."

"Not hungry."

Jim narrowed his eyes, but by this point, he'd had plenty of experiences involving Blaine's stress-related eating habits, so he wasn't particularly concerned. "Well, whatever. If he's in there, you can talk to him now and get all the shittiness out of the way."

"Okay." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Let's go."

* * *

"Roomie!" Paul cheered when Kurt slumped in, sagging against the wall. "She said yes!"

If Kurt had been focused at all, he would have remembered that Paul had been mooning over his Calculus tutor basically forever, and had, in fact, started the morning saying, quite seriously, to his reflection: "Today is the day." He would have remembered covering his laugh with a cough and asking Paul what he meant, and his roommate going bright red and attempting to bumble his way out of answering. But he'd been so wrapped up in everything else that had been going on in his life that his roommate's love life hadn't actually made his list of concerns. He hated himself the moment he realized that.

_Oh._

_Right. Maddie._

_Right, my roommate actually has a reason to be happy._

_Goddammit, Kurt, be supportive._

"Congratulations!" He laughed, and it was the fakest sound he'd ever heard himself make. (Which was saying something, considering the whole Brittany debacle.) "I knew it'd work out for you."

"Wait, you knew?"

"Paul. You came back from those tutoring sessions beaming like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. I knew. Plus, it made absolutely zero sense for you to have a tutor from Crawford Country Day instead of someone who actually goes to school here just helping you."

"It's not that far a drive," Paul pouted. "I didn't think I was that obvious."

"I'm not trying to be a jerk about it," Kurt sighed. "I thought it was sweet."

"Oh." His face brightened. "Really?"

"Well, yeah." Shrugging, he carefully hung his messenger bag on the hook by the door and half-shuffled toward his bed. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks!" Delightedly, Paul all but rocketed to his feet and pulled Kurt into a quick hug. "I'm gonna go get some food. Wanna come?"

Kurt flinched despite himself at the very thought of braving the dining commons tonight. "No, I'm not feeling so great. I think I'm just going to lie down."

"Aw." Paul winced apologetically. "Hope you feel better, man."

"Thanks. Congrats again about the Maddie thing; that's awesome."

"We're going out Friday, by the way. Can you maybe help me with- -"

"Of course," Kurt interrupted, sniffing out the fashion-related question before he'd even finished speaking. "Whenever you want."

"You're the best, man. I'll see you soon!" And Paul bounced delightedly out the door.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, Kurt flopped backward onto his bed. It was a testament to how this day had gone (and how much he hated this godawful uniform) that wrinkling his clothes wasn't even a concern. His shoes fell to the ground with a thud, and he curled up on his side, yanking his blanket up to his chin. As pathetically melodramatic as he felt like he was being, right now he really did just kind of want everything to go away. So he turned the TV to the first stupid, mindless sitcom he could find and tried to zone out.

The next thing he was aware of was his roommate's voice. "Blaine was looking for you at dinner," Paul reported as he breezed through the door, tossing his keys onto his desk with an obnoxious clatter.

Kurt lifted his head with effort, squinting as he tried to comprehend his surroundings. "What'd you tell him?"

"That you were taking a nap. I brought you a sandwich, by the way."

"You really didn't have to do that. Thank you." Touched, Kurt sat up and accepted the proffered wrap, trying to smile. "And thanks for...for telling Blaine."

"It's nothin'." He grinned back easily. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Still nauseous," Kurt fibbed. "But I think maybe I just forgot to e-eat today." _Dammit, why does everyfuckingthing have to remind me of Blaine?_ Hoping Paul hadn't noticed his stumble, he ducked his head and busied himself with the sandwich. "Did he, um, mention what he wanted?"

"Nah. He looked a little upset though." Paul's brow was creased in a way that Kurt had learned meant, 'I am concerned about you, but because I am a supermanlyman, I am not going to ask you what's wrong. Nope. But if you want to tell me, you can. Seriously. And I'll be supportive, too.' "Hey, didn't you have some kind of audition today? I meant to ask about it earlier, but...you know." He gave a little, self-deprecating laugh and shrugged.

"You had your own stuff going on. I totally understand. I, um. I didn't get the solo. But thanks for asking."

Paul's eyes went wide. "Wait. You didn't? Who the hell did?"

"Nick, I think?" He was pretty sure Blaine had told him, but Blaine had said a rather large number of other things that had ended up receiving the majority of his attention. "They were both really good." He had to admit that much to himself. (And it didn't hurt that at least this way Paul wouldn't think he was a completely sore loser.)

"That sucks," Paul opined, flopping onto his bed, which emitted a rather ominous creak. "You're fuckin' awesome. I've never heard a guy sing like that before."

The earnestness in his voice made Kurt laugh a little, in spite of himself. "Thanks, Paul." He was starting to feel like a broken record or something, with all the thanking he'd been doing lately. Not that that was a bad thing, really. Actually kind of made him feel better that people were saying things he could be grateful for.

"Just telling the truth, man."

"Well, whenever you need me for clothes or whatever, just let me know," he reminded his roommate, getting up to get his laptop off the desk.

"I'll hit you up after class tomorrow. Cool?"

"Yeah, just as long as it's after Warblers practice."

"You rock."

"I try."

He avoided facebook and anything else that would force him to deal with the outside world for the rest of the evening, hiding his phone in his desk on silent and cracking down on the surplus of work that had somehow already accumulated over the past two days. It was weird, but it felt kind of great to have something that required such intense focus, because his desire to do well totally overshadowed all the awkwardness with Blaine, the loneliness, and how much the whole solo debacle really had stung. It was hard, at the beginning, to be able to keep his mind in his work, but Kurt was nothing if not persistent, and by bedtime, he'd actually managed to get a good portion of his assignments done.

"Night, Paul."

"Night. Hey..." He rolled over and squinted sleepily at Kurt. "...did you ever find out what Blaine wanted?"

Kurt's stomach twisted unpleasantly. "Um. No."

"How come?" he asked innocently, yawning.

"...I don't know. I'm sure it's...nothing."

"Dunno." Another yawn. "He looked kind of upset, but I didn't want to be obnoxious and ask what was up. You should talk to him tomorrow."

"Okay," Kurt murmured, biting his lip. "G'night, Paul."

"Night Kurt."

* * *

When Kurt got the text message the next day (_**Meet me in the junior commons? I really have to talk to you.**_), part of him kind of wanted to ignore it. But then he remembered how completely wonderful Blaine had been about letting him borrow his car, and making sure he was as safe as he could be at McKinley without actually going with him, and dammit, he just couldn't be that heartless.

_Give me fifteen minutes._

And when he arrived in the junior commons, there Blaine was, perched anxiously on the edge of the couch. He was on his feet the moment Kurt walked in. "Do you...do you want to come sit?"

"Sure," Kurt replied coolly, choosing a different couch on which to sit, both to put space between himself and Blaine, and so he could see the other boy's facial expressions.

Blaine watched him nervously for a moment, and then exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. "About yesterday...I feel like I should apologize to you."

"You feel like you _should_?"

"That's- -I want to apologize. For what I said after your audition. I could have been...I wanted to be so much more supportive. I feel really bad about what I said."

"It wasn't what you said, Blaine, it was how you said it." Kurt sighed shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I- -I understand what you meant by it. I do. But I just...the way you _worded_ it...did you..." His voice caught in his throat and he shook his head, almost frantically. "Forget it."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He reached for Kurt, and then thought better of it and quickly backed off. "I've been feeling awful about...about the way I handled the whole thing. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I didn't mean to."

"You didn't snap," Kurt whispered, annoyed by the persisting waver in his voice.

Sighing, Blaine leaned toward him. "Maybe not, but you're right. I didn't intend on saying it that way. I didn't mean to make you feel like I wanted you to change who you are. That's- -that's the last thing I want."

"What do you want?" Kurt asked, before he could stop himself.

Blaine drew back, brow creased in confusion. "I...I don't think I understand."

He shook his head, hard. "I don't think I even know what I'm asking." It was a baldfaced lie, not that he'd ever admit that.

But something was off about the way Kurt was talking, and Blaine knew him well enough by now to recognize that. Uncertain, he chewed the inside of his lip, groping for something to say that would ease whatever hurt he had inadvertently caused his friend. "Kurt, I- -I want you to be happy. I want you to feel comfortable. Like you have a place here. You do. Everyone loves you. It's hard to get used to Dalton and the Warblers, and we all understand that. Somehow, when I was talking to you earlier, that got horridly miscommunicated, and I'm really sorry. I'm terrible with words." He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you. Ever. You're my best friend."

It was the first time he'd said the words..._my best friend_. Not _one_ of my best friends, but my _best friend_. And Kurt knew, in thinking about it logically, that it probably wasn't strictly true- -that Wes and David would always have memories and moments with Blaine that he'd never get, and that they'd known him longer and almost certainly knew him better, too. God, but it was _so_ damn good to hear. And yeah, he'd been hurt by what Blaine had said, but now that same boy was sitting in front of him, looking so painfully, earnestly apologetic that Kurt couldn't help wondering if maybe he'd overreacted. A lot.

"I'm sorry too," he muttered, too embarrassed to meet Blaine's eyes anymore. "I- -it's been a hard couple of weeks, and...and I took what you said too personally. I had some stupid thought in my head that I'd come to Dalton and it would be my, like, salvation or something. Like it'd be perfect. So I set myself up for all this stress, and..." He sighed. "I'm just...really sorry."

Blaine, who had been sitting on the couch across from him, got up and tentatively inched closer. "Don't. Don't apologize; you haven't done anything wrong. It will get better, Kurt. There will be more opportunities. I can promise you that." He offered Kurt a shy smile and opened his arms. "Can I have a hug?"

As if I'd say no. Being in Blaine's arms like this was...wonderful. Strangely intimate, especially because it wasn't as though they hadn't hugged dozens of times in the past couple of weeks. This one, though, wasn't just a quick, casual moment. This one...this one felt like a lot more than that. More than just an apology, even. This was an "I don't want to hurt you" embrace. A wordless, "you mean too much to me to let this come between us."

_I don't want to let you go._

_Wait, what?_

"Don't give up," Blaine murmured instead, gently rubbing Kurt's back and feeling absurdly grateful that the other boy couldn't see his rapidly reddening face. (Because had he really just had that thought about _Kurt_? Really?) "Don't let this discourage you. Your day will come, and when it does, it will be perfect."

It was harder for Kurt to hide the shiver that skated up his spine with Blaine so close. Damn near impossible to focus on what he was saying with his breath gently caressing Kurt's ear.

"Thank you," he whispered with effort, and neither of them was even thinking about the fact that _hello_, normal, platonic hugs _so_ did not usually (read: ever) last this long.

"I'm serious," Blaine reiterated, pulling back so that he could look right into Kurt's eyes. "You didn't hear them after you walked out. Everyone was absolutely raving about your voice. You should be proud of yourself." It wasn't a lie. And there would be nothing to gain in reiterating the thing about trying not to stick out quite so much. All that would do would be hurt Kurt all over again.

"Thanks," Kurt repeated, with a soft smile. "But I...not to be pathetic, but I'm just...what did I do wrong, then?"

"It was mostly the song. I know you love Evita and Patti, and you sang it beautifully, but we're an a capella group, you know? We have to be able to rearrange the songs so that we can harmonize behind whoever's singing, and unfortunately that tends to rule out the majority of showtunes."

"...oh."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Kurt's smile was genuine now. "I should probably go, I've got an English paper due on Monday, and with sectionals this weekend, it'll never get done unless I start it now."

Part of Blaine really, really didn't want Kurt to leave. Okay, no, the _part_ bit was a lie. He just wanted Kurt to stay, maybe come back to his room with him (_not for sordid reasons, dammit, don't __look__ at him like that_) and talk. To make sure that they were really okay. But he knew he probably shouldn't push it right now, so instead of begging Kurt to come have a movie marathon with him, he grinned and replied, "Good luck with that."

**AN: Disclaimed, blah, blah. It's so late. But I really wanted to get this up for you all.**

**ANNOUNCEMENTS: **

**I don't usually like to do this, but: feedback me, _please_. I want to make sure you guys are happy with the things I'm focusing on- -that I'm not skipping things you want to see, or spending too much time on things you don't particularly care about.**

**This was supposed to be one chapter. Sectionals, I mean. (BTDUBS, I'M STILL HARDCORE FANGIRLING ABOUT REGIONALS!) And then Blaine was his dapper self, and just _wouldn't stop talking. _Sorry about that.**

**Also, poll on my author page, the outcome of which will have a major impact on the SLS and Comeback chapters, so go vote, loves!**

**I'M GOING TO BED. **

**Much love!**


	7. Wait, When the Hell Did That Happen?

When the morning of sectionals dawned, it was pouring. If Kurt had been the superstitious type, he'd have automatically taken it as a bad omen; as it was, he made a face and burrowed deeper under his covers, hoping that if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself he didn't _actually _have to get out of bed at all today. He'd forgotten to figure panicked!Wes into this lovely equation, though, and within only a few moments of consciousness, there was someone banging rather insistently on his door. "Hummel, you up?"

_I am now_. "Unf- -yep!" he edited quickly, attempting to inject some nonexistent pep into his voice, because a sportsmanship/enthusiasm lecture would so not be a fun thing to deal with right now, and as random and fun as Wes could be most of the time, there was no denying how seriously he took the Warblers. If he were in Lima, Mercedes would probably be over, sprawling all over his bed in an attempt to wake him up, laughing at how cranky he was in the morning and trying to bribe him to get up with promises of...well, something. She was always creative when it came to these things. He blinked hard, banishing the moisture in his eyes before it could turn into real tears, and tried to push away thoughts of his friends. Crying would be the worst thing he could possibly do.

"We're getting on the bus in a few hours, so get ready!"

He heard a muffled, "Stop being such a Nazi," from someone who sounded a lot like Blaine and laughed a little despite himself. It was going to be okay. If nothing else, he'd get to _see_ them, which was better than nothing, right?

Sure. Probably.

Maybe not.

_Shut up. _

Another knock, this one much gentler. "It's me, is it open?"

"I don't know. Probably, Paul's key is on his desk."

It took Blaine actually opening the door for Kurt to realize, _wait, shit, __no__, _Blaine was not allowed to see his morning hair! (Ignoring the fact that he already had, because that was then, and _hello_, Blaine was probably all perfectly coiffed now, so seeing Kurt's horrendous case of bedhead would be nothing but counterproductive and all around bad_._) Panicked, he buried himself deep under his bedsheets in a sudden, desperate act of self preservation. "Hand me my comb," he ordered, freeing his arm from the pile of blankets and wiggling his fingers.

Blaine just laughed, crossing the room in a few quick strides and tugging playfully on Kurt's comforter. "Oh, come on. You don't have to hide from me."

"Yes, I do," Kurt bemoaned, clutching the fabric in a death grip. "It's really bad."

Snickering, Blaine leaned closer and trailed his fingers mock-menacingly along Kurt's side; even through the layers of material, the countertenor shivered slightly.

"No. Oh, no, you do not get to use that against me."

"Then you never should have told me how ticklish you are," Blaine sing-songed, and Kurt bolted upright, fixing him with the mother of all glares.

"You are a dirty cheater."

"You like it," he answered merrily, hopping off the bed and extending his hand. "I'm sorry. Truce?"

"Never," Kurt groused, but allowed Blaine to help him up nonetheless. "For this, I fully intend to fall asleep on your shoulder while we're on the bus, and then drool _all over_ you."

"It'd mess up your hair," Blaine pointed out, reaching out his free hand to ruffle it. Kurt wrenched free with a yelp.

"The fact that it's already messed up does not make that okay. Touch my hair again and I will burn all your hair gel. _Burn_ _it_."

"It's flammable. It'll burn down the whole rainforest."

"Good thing we live in rural Ohio, with no rainforests in sight."

"It would explode. You'd have to be like, miles away from it to avoid the flames."

"It'd be worth it."

Blaine chuckled despite himself. "You're not a morning person, are you?"

"Gee, what was your first clue?" he deadpanned, leveling Blaine with a narrow-eyed glare. "I require caffeination for survival."

"Well, we should probably go get some coffee then."

Kurt nodded, suddenly eager. "Give me a few minutes to fix this mess."

"Nope." He seized Kurt's hand and towed him to the door. "You made me venture out in public without my gel, you'll come get coffee with me without fixing yours."

"We've got to get ready for sectionals, though," Kurt whined. "I have to look good. It's a competition."

"I'll do it for you when we get back," Blaine offered, grinning widely. "But you'll have to make up your mind quick or we're not going to have time to get coffee at all."

"Cheater," Kurt reiterated, pouting. "Hate you." (Except that the thought of Blaine touching his hair made it sort of, kind of, really hard to breathe. Which was weird, because he never let anyone touch his hair. Ever.)

"Untrue," Blaine replied easily, laughing as he succeeded in pulling Kurt from the safety of his room. "I even promise to let you have full control of how much gel I put in."

"In which case you won't be wearing any," Kurt shot back, smiling charmingly.

"Oh, no, I actually meant for you."

"Oh." He narrowed his eyes. "Well, _yeah. _If- -and this is a huge, emphatic _if,_ I let you touch my luscious locks, I refuse to let you clog my follicles with the ridiculous amounts of product you use." He was still beaming at Blaine, just so the other boy would know that this was all in good fun...mostly. "Now let's go so I have time to drink my latte."

Dining hall coffee was a far cry from coffee shop coffee, but it was the best they could do if they wanted to avoid cutting it _really _close, and therefore getting killed by Wes. Kurt winced as he pushed the button that would dispense the closest thing to a latte that he was apparently going to get this morning and muttered, "I'm going to just...not think about all the sugar that's in this."

"Good idea," Blaine answered approvingly, even though he wasn't actually supposed to have heard that. "Indulge every once and a while."

They sat in comfortable silence, each quietly sipping his coffee, and neither seeming to realize that their free hands sat close enough on the table that their fingers were brushing slightly. Kurt basked in the contact, simple though it was, carefully _not_ thinking about what the rest of his day would entail. This was...peaceful. He could totally handle this.

And then, in a moment, it was all over.

"Blaine!" David yelped as he bounded through the double doors; the boy in question jumped violently, startled from his tranquil mood, and Kurt watched as though in slow motion as his coffee upended...only to splash all over the sleeve of Kurt's shirt.

David froze from several yards away, wide-eyed, and then quickly slunk away to go get some food.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Blaine's eyes were huge with horror. "It didn't burn you or anything, did it?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Kurt assured him quickly, making a face as he plucked at the coffee-stained button down.

"I don't even know how that happened. I really didn't- -I'm so...here, come on, you should probably get something on that before it stains."

They hurried back to Kurt's room, Kurt silently thanking his lucky stars that he'd had the foresight of putting on his uniform before leaving the room, because as much as he loved Blaine, he wasn't sure how it would have gone down, had that been one of his precious designer shirts. But Blaine, being Blaine, didn't seem to realize the distinction (evidenced by the fact that he kept looking at Kurt as though he expected him to explode at any given moment).

"You're looking at me like you're afraid I'm going to murder you with a pickaxe," Kurt said dryly. "Relax. It's not a big deal."

He obeyed, kind of. "Still, I feel really awful about it..."

"Well, don't. It wasn't your fault. Just make it up to me by buying my coffee tomorrow morning," he replied playfully, holding the door open for Blaine, who had followed him back to his room without even thinking about it. And Kurt, honest to GaGa, has no effing idea where this came from (he would later blame delirium brought on by lack of sleep and too much stress), but he laughed and teased, "Y'know, Blaine, if you wanted to watch me change, you could have just said something." Except that maybe it had come out less jokingly than he'd intended, because Blaine went so red that he practically caught fire, and started stammering random, nonsensical syllables. "Joke, Blaine," he interrupted, taking pity on the other boy. "You know, like, kidding?"

"R-right, right, knew that."

"Hold?" Kurt added innocently, shrugging out of his blazer and holding it out to Blaine.

"Sure, of course," he answered quickly. Though, _hello_, Blaine, apparently 'hold my blazer' implied, 'because I'm going to get changed in front of you.' Which probably should have been obvious, and was so not a big deal, really. They were best friends- -it wasn't like Blaine was worried that Kurt was going to try anything, or that he wasn't going to be able to control himself or something. That would be ridiculous.

But then for some reason, Blaine just...couldn't tear his eyes away. Kurt seemed oblivious, humming tunelessly under his breath as he deftly unbuttoned his shirt. Blaine swallowed, hard. _Look away, Anderson, what the hell are you doing? _But there...there was so much _skin_. And dammit, he couldn't deny that Kurt was...well..._attractive. _And then he tossed his stained shirt carelessly on the ground, bending slightly at the waist to dig around for another shirt and it was just _too much._

"I, uh...I gotta go. David said he had to talk to me about something," Blaine blurted, hanging Kurt's blazer carefully on the back of his desk chair. "Meet you on the bus!"

"Wait, but- -" Except _dammit_, the door was already shut. Kurt groaned, letting his head fall against the wall with a low thud.

_What a mess._

* * *

"He's by himself," Jeff whispered, nudging Nick and tilting his head slightly in Kurt's direction. The countertenor's expression was inscrutable, and the only indication that he was even slightly less than completely comfortable with his situation was the death grip he had on the strap of his messenger bag. His eyes roamed over the bus, undoubtedly searching for Blaine, but the lead soloist hadn't boarded yet. "I feel bad."

"Yeah," Nick replied, holding back a quiet sigh. He'd known his best friend had had some kind of interest in Kurt from basically day one, but Jeff had yet to actually do anything about it. _'I've never even talked to him,' _he'd exclaimed, when he'd first admitted to the attraction. _'I don't understand how I could be into him if I don't know anything about him.'_

_ 'So you should talk to him,' _Nick had pointed out, trying to ignore the hollow ache that Jeff's confession caused in his chest. _'Find out about him, and see if you still like him when you know more about him. Then you could do something about it, if you want, or not.'_

He still hadn't actually followed Nick's advice, but for a few random dinner conversations that everybody had had together after rehearsal; and at first, Nick had dared to hope that meant that Jeff had gotten over the crush on his own. But for Christ's sake, Jeff was his best friend. Jeff was the first person he'd come out to, the person he'd told everything to for years- -so, deep down, he knew his hopes were futile. Jeff wasn't what one could call experienced in the romance department- -he'd had a boyfriend or two, but he was hardly a Casanova. And when he was around the guys he was interested in, he had a tendency to be unusually quiet. Nick had known that all along, and still...he'd _hoped_.

But now here they were, and Kurt was still standing there, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly and starting to look like he'd rather be pretty much anywhere else. _There are empty seats around_, Nick couldn't help thinking. _Is he really so uncomfortable here that he doesn't even feel like he can sit with any of us besides Blaine? _

"Kurt! Sit with us!" A surge of pity pushed the words out of his mouth before he could even really think them through, but he couldn't bring himself to regret speaking. Kurt halted, blinking uncertainly at Nick, whose wide smile didn't waver. "C'mon. You've been here for a while now and we've hardly ever talked to you."

"I...sure," Kurt sputtered, nervously tightening his grip on the strap of his bag even further and instinctively glancing around for Blaine. What could it hurt, really, getting to know new people? Ignoring the little niggling voice that lived in the back of his mind, which was insistently pointing out that Kurt actually didn't have the greatest luck with people in general, he tried to smile and perched delicately on the edge of the seat. "Um. Thanks."

"No prob," Nick replied, still grinning warmly. "I mean, you seem really nice; I really don't want this solo thing to, like, keep us from being friends." _What the fuck am I talking about?_

"Of course it won't," Kurt answered automatically, even though he couldn't help thinking that it had been a pretty random thing to say. "Congratulations. You'll be wonderful." The words felt kind of strange on his lips- -a little stiff, a little unnatural. But he wasn't lying, and it brightened his mood a bit to realize that he was capable of being happy(ish) for Nick, despite his own crushed hopes.

"Thanks!" He beamed, and promptly realized he had exactly nothing to say. Jeff was shooting him none-too-subtle looks of panic, though, so he just blurted the first thing that popped into his mind. "So are you excited?"

"Kind of nervous, actually," Kurt confessed, absolutely _willing _himself to stop, dammit, _stop _obsessing over where Blaine might be right this instant, why he wasn't on the bus, whether it would hurt his feelings that Kurt hadn't saved him a seat, or maybe he'd be relieved, because he hadn't- -

Jeff's gentle voice interrupted his scattered train of thought (_thank GaGa_) with a simple, "You don't have to be," and Kurt jumped a little as he abruptly snapped back to the present. Jeff went slightly pink and pressed on, "I just mean, you picked up all our choreography and your vocal parts really quickly. You'll be great."

Kurt's first thought was that what the Warblers did so did not even count as choreography, his second was that it really wasn't that hard to be a fake ukelele all the time, and his third was that he should probably stop following this particular train of thought if he wanted to survive this day. "Thanks," he replied instead, grinning at Jeff. The other boy flushed deeper and shrugged in a _just telling the truth _kind of way.

Silence reigned again for a while before Kurt, who had finally resigned himself to the fact that he must have missed Blaine getting on the bus (particularly since it was currently moving, and there was no way in hell the collective force that was Wevid would ever go anywhere without their star soloist), and he might as well at least make an attempt to make other friends, spoke up again. "Can I ask you guys a question?"

"Shoot."

"How does everything work around here? I mean, with solo auditions and stuff. I feel like no one ever really told me, and I was just- -it's so different from McKinley, so...yeah."

Nick relaxed slightly, because _this _was something he could talk about easily. "Thing is, we hardly ever audition solos. Most of them just automatically go to Blaine, because ever since we finally got him to open up and _sing_, the council basically decided that he had the most versatile voice among all of us, so...there's that."

Kurt perked up. "What do you mean, once you got him to open up?" Funny, but in all their conversations, Blaine had mentioned a lot of deeply personal things, but never _that_.

He probably should have been worried about potentially betraying his friend's confidence, but Nick kind of just wanted things to stay...not awkward. For Jeff's sake. So he just kind of...talked. "It was hard for him when he first got here, you know? I mean, I'm sure you know. You probably get it a lot more than we do. But yeah. He was so _quiet_. I remember being totally worried for him, but I was kind of afraid to talk to him because I didn't want to freak him out even more. But Jim heard him singing in their room one day- -it's weird, everyone who doesn't know the story assumes it was Wes and David who made him audition for the Warblers, since they're best friends and whatever. But it was actually his roommate.

"So either way. He didn't want to audition for the longest time, but you've met Jim. You know that he isn't exactly the type to just take no for an answer. So he dragged Wes and David and Thad with him, and they apparently just creeped outside the door listening to Blaine sing while he did his homework or something, and then when Jim opened the door, they pretty much ambushed him."

"I'm sure that went over well," Kurt replied, with more than a trace of sarcasm. But he smiled, amused by the mental image.

"I don't know the specifics from there, but I do know that Blaine didn't just start getting solos right away. So...that's comforting, right? None of us have gotten solos our first time."

"Yeah, you're right," Kurt allowed, even though he couldn't help still being disappointed.

"How do solo auditions go for New Directions?" Nick asked curiously.

"We don't really audition. Each week, each of us picks a song that we think expresses some certain theme, and we just...sing for each other."

Nick didn't miss the present tense, didn't miss that Kurt still referred to himself as part of New Directions; and he couldn't help but wonder if the smaller boy talked about the Warblers as "them" with his McKinley friends. But he didn't mention it, just filed it away for future consideration and kept rambling. "So how do you decide who does solos for competitions?"

Kurt shrugged. "It can get really random. But it's usually Rachel and Finn. I suspect it will be today, and that there will be at least one power ballad in their set list." There was no mistaking the longing in his voice, and Jeff shot him a worried glance.

"Doesn't it ever get frustrating being background all the time?"

Kurt's brow crinkled. "_You're _asking _me_? Here, everyone who isn't Blaine spends the majority of their time pretending to be a flute or a guitar or whatever." _That's why I wanted the solo so badly. I was starting to feel like no one could hear me at all._

Nick laughed a little. "So I guess we can both relate."

"I guess so." More silence, and then Kurt realized with an unpleasant little jolt that his words had come out a lot more harshly than he'd intended. "I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to sound so bitter. It's great here, honestly."

"We're glad you're happy," Nick answered cheerily, even though sometimes it really didn't seem like Kurt actually was. It wasn't that he was standoffish or anything- -he'd talk to you, if you talked to him first, and then he seemed like a really great guy. And Nick wasn't really one to judge, but it kind of seemed like maybe Kurt just wasn't used to that many people wanting to talk to him. So maybe that was the reason, then. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Kurt replied with a little smirk, and Jeff laughed.

Nick smiled a little and took a deep breath. "What made you come here?"

It was a mistake; he recognized that the moment he'd finished speaking. Kurt's whole body tensed, his eyes darkening. "I- -I'd really rather not talk about it."

He backtracked, quick. "Sure, right, sorry."

Kurt paled. _Do not alienate people who are actually interested in talking to you, idiot. _"God, no, don't apologize. It's a legitimate question."

"Well, whatever, no pressure," Nick answered breezily, and quickly got them all involved in a rousing game of This or That that had them all in stitches within minutes.

* * *

He still hadn't gotten the opportunity to talk to Blaine again by the time they reached the venue, and by then, he was starting to get seriously desperate. Nick's antics had kept him sufficiently distracted for the majority of the bus ride, but now, here were the performance jitters and the unwelcome realization that _holy shit_, he was about to compete against most of his best friends in the entire world. And only one of their groups was going to come out of it happy.

"Have you seen Blaine?" he asked David quickly, snagging his sleeve as he wandered by.

"Actually, I don't know where he went," the other boy admitted, wincing apologetically. "I'll tell him you're looking for him, when I see him."

When, not if. Kurt let out a breath of relief. "Thanks."

"No prob, dude."

Well, there wasn't anything to be done about it now, aside from waste time worrying about whether or not his random moment of ballsiness had completely screwed things up. He let out a half-sigh, half-groan. No, he simply _could not _just stand here, doing nothing. Coffee. That was all he needed. More coffee, since his original attempt at caffeinating had ended rather disastrously.

The last thing he expected was to run in Rachel Berry, particularly a Rachel Berry who was yelping about Raisinettes.

The _absolute _last thing he expected was to find himself actually enjoying her company.

But then there was Blaine, smiling charmingly at Rachel and telling Kurt that they've called places, and _oh my God, _he still has to compete against New Directions, and his hair makes him look like he's about twelve, because he'd been so distracted after Blaine ran out on him that he couldn't even focus, and _he seriously cannot do this._

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked casually, and Kurt whipped around to face him.

"What?"

"You look kind of stressed."

Kurt drew a deep breath and nodded. "Fine." He couldn't unload on Blaine now. He'd done it enough lately, and Blaine had solos to sing and other things to think about...and Kurt was just so _tired _of having to struggle to be happy all the damn time.

But Blaine was Blaine, and Blaine was pretty much perfect, and he wrapped a supportive arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezed gently. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, everything's going to be okay. I promise."

...he probably shouldn't have accepted Blaine's word quite so quickly.

* * *

"Congratulations, gorgeous!" Kurt exclaimed, laughing despite himself as Mercedes swept him into a bone-crushing hug, squealing delightedly.

"You _killed _it, boy!" she yelped, still clinging to him as she rocked from side to side. "And excuse me, but what in the _hell_ did you look so terrified for at the beginning?"

"I did not look _terrified,_" Kurt objected, pouting at her.

"Yeah, you did, dude," Finn interjected, all but pulling him away from Mercedes and yanking him into a slightly sweaty side-hug. Kurt made a good-natured face, still clinging resolutely to Mercedes' hand even as he returned Finn's embrace.

"I just didn't want to disappoint you guys," he confessed, and Mercedes squeezed his hand supportively.

"You're ridiculous," she scoffed, leveling him with her best _bitch, please_ glare. "How could we ever be disappointed in you?"

He shrugged. "Puck looked pissed."

"Whatever. He misses you. We all miss you, dude," Finn replied, blinking innocently. "Like, it's super weird to see you in the same clothes as everybody else. But nobody's mad at you." Unconvinced, Kurt shot a curious glance at Mercedes- -if anyone was going to tell him the truth, it'd be her. But before she could speak up, someone clapped him hard on the shoulder. He flinched reflexively as he turned, but it was only Puck. Puck, whose mouth was drawn in a tight line, his eyes dark and otherwise inscrutable. Kurt's stomach knotted uncertainly. "Puckerman."

"Hummel." He was just _staring_. How ridiculously unnerving.

He didn't see Quinn come up behind Puck and jab him hard in the ribs, hissing, "Don't be a jerk."

He _did_ see Puck whip around to glare at her, growling something that vaguely sounded like, "I'm not. Chill the eff out." He could have hazarded a guess as to what Quinn had said, but why bother? Besides, he didn't have much time to think about it before she rolled her eyes and pushed past her ex-whatever to hug Kurt tight, burying her face in his shoulder. "You were wonderful."

He smiled, stroking her hair instinctively. "Please. I was a friggin' ukelele._You_. You and Sam...you were _fantastic. _You all were."

"So I guess you couldn't tell that about fifteen minutes before curtain, we were all about ready to kill each other."

Kurt groaned. "Oh, God, not again."

"Yep," Mercedes chimed in. "Again. But at least this year nobody stole our damn set list."

He was distracted from responding when a pair of arms slithered around his waist and someone started pressing little, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck; from somewhere nearby, Blaine stuttered something kind of incoherent-sounding and Mercedes burst into a fit of hysterical cackles. "Hi, boo," he greeted Brittany, completely unfazed as he twisted around in her arms to peck her on the cheek. "You were amazing."

"I didn't need the magic comb!" she sang happily, still wrapped quite firmly around his waist.

Yeah, he wasn't even gonna _try _to figure that one out. "I knew you wouldn't."

"I missed you," she pouted, nuzzling him. "Come back."

A lump clogged his throat, and he swallowed hard. "I can't, babygirl. I'm sorry."

"But I miss you," she repeated. "I don't like it when you're gone."

"Me either," he said softly, massaging her back gently as she threw herself back into his arms. "But I have to be."

"Britt, Jesus. Don't strangle him," came Santana's strident tones, and she gently disentangled the blonde. "Good job, Hummel." She laughed and tugged lightly on the collar of his blazer. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, well, you and me both."

"Hey, you know what I mean," she replied, kissing him noisily on the cheek. "We miss you, or whatever."

"Thanks for the enthusiasm," he answered sarcastically, except that he knew that, from Santana, that was tantamount to high praise. "'Valerie' was hot. Congratulations."

"Thanks," she answered easily, swiping at the lipstick blot that she'd left on his cheek; but he thought he caught her glancing at Brittany when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Kurt!"

He closed his eyes, resigned. "What, Wes?"

"We've got to go." He actually did look apologetic; Kurt sighed, hugged each member of New Directions once more, and forced himself to walk away.

"Hummel."

He was just outside the doors to the bus when he heard Puck's voice, and he turned, slowly, to face him. "Yeah?"

"They're watching out for you at that prep school, right?"

Dumbfounded, Kurt blinked. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes. "They keeping an eye on you? Because if they're not, I'll kick somebody's ass."

"They...they are."

He nodded, slowly, and then thumped Kurt on the back. "See you."

And then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he walked away.

He was still dazed as he climbed onto the bus; but not enough that he didn't notice Blaine waving energetically at him from one of the back rows. "Hey, c'mere! I saved you a seat!"

"Thanks," he replied, as brightly as he could. "Hey, sorry about earlier, I- -I wasn't sure where you were."

"Oh, no worries," Blaine assured him quickly, feeling himself color slightly. But what else can he say, 'Oh, yeah, no problem...actually, I was kind of avoiding you so I'd have the chance to pull myself together after inadvertently ogling you'?

Yeah. Right.

* * *

"So do you think I should?"

"Ask him out?" It was hard for Nick to force the words out, but he knew he'd have to face facts eventually, and now was looking like the best opportunity he'd have to do so.

"Uh huh." He was actually bouncing, looking so childishly hopeful that Nick had to look away for a second to get a grip on his emotions. "I think you should do whatever's going to make you happy."

Stopping his frenetic movement, Jeff sat beside him and shoulder-checked him gently. "Really? Or are you just saying that?"

His head snapped up so quickly that his neck actually cracked. "Jesus, Jeff, are you really asking me that? Why wouldn't I want you to be happy? You're my best friend." _And nothing more_, pointed out a snide voice in the back of his mind. He flinched a little, reflexively, and tried to smile at the other boy.

"Ditto," Jeff sing-songed, and _God_, but he looked so _happy_. That had to mean something, right? _So what if it isn't with me? I'll get over it. _

_ As long as he's happy._

"So I'm going to do it, then," he announced, flopping backward onto his bed. "Tomorrow. After rehearsal."

_Great._

* * *

"Kurt! Hey- -Kurt!"

He shot Blaine a befuddled look and turned curiously around. Jeff jogged over and halted just next to him, cheeks slightly pink from the cold. "Hi." If he noticed Blaine hovering awkwardly nearby, he didn't let it faze him, and he ignored the other boy but for a quick, friendly smile.

"Hi," Kurt echoed, grinning. True, he didn't know Jeff very well, but there was something so inherently _pleasant _about him that one couldn't help but smile back. "What's up?"

"Actually, I..." Suddenly betraying his uncertainty for the first time, he glanced over at Blaine, shifting from foot to foot. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I'll meet you in your room later," Kurt told Blaine, recognizing Jeff's desire for privacy and shooting Blaine a Very Significant Look. Blaine's brow was furrowed, but he nodded and headed back toward the dorms without question.

"It's nothing big," Jeff assured Kurt once Blaine was out of earshot, tugging compulsively on the hem of his blazer. "I was just. Um. Wondering if maybe you might want to go get coffee with me later. Maybe?"

"Whuh?" Kurt blurted, eyes widening.

"I was...it doesn't have to be today, if you're busy. I just figured maybe it might be kind of fun?"

Kurt blinked repeatedly. _What the hell is going on? _"Li-like a date?"

"Oh!" Jeff went pale. "I don't...I don't know."

"Oh," he replied, dazed.

"I just meant that...well...I was hoping to be able to get to know you better. Because you seem like a really great guy. But it doesn't have to be a- -it could just be...y'know. Coffee. Just coffee. And...well. Me. If you want it to- -"

"Okay," Kurt interrupted, before he could even think about what he was saying.

He reared back slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah. Sure. I mean, why not, right?"

Visibly relaxing, Jeff beamed. "Exactly. Sure, exactly."

Drawing a deep breath, Kurt grinned at the other boy. "I should actually go. I've got a huge bio project due in a few days, and I swear that class is going to be the death of me. What about Wednesday after rehearsal?"

"Yeah, sounds fantastic!" Jeff agreed readily, beaming. "I'll let you get to that, then. See you!"

"See you," he echoed, and Jeff loped jauntily away, leaving Kurt staring after him confusedly. He sighed heavily, hitching his bag higher onto his shoulder. "Shit."

"What were you doing?" Blaine asked innocently when Kurt wandered in a few minutes later. He flopped backwards onto the bed, (after, of course, hanging his bag carefully on the bedpost to make sure nothing would happen to it) staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"I- -I think I have a date on Wednesday."

Jim choked on his Gatorade and sat bolt upright. "What? With who?"

This was one of those rare times Blaine was actually grateful to have a roommate who was occasionally completely tactless, because _what_? With _who_? Kurt had never mentioned having an interest in anyone! Was it possible that he didn't trust Blaine enough to confide in him? And he'd have asked himself (albeit in a less obnoxious way), but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

"Jeff," Kurt replied, still in such a trance that he didn't realize that it wasn't Blaine who had spoken. _He looked so excited. I- -what if...what if he tries to kiss me or something?_

"Like _Jeff_? Warbler Jeff, Nick's best friend?" Jim prompted, nudging Blaine hard in the ribs like, _hello, idiot, could you maybe say something? You __are__ his best friend, yes?_

"Uh huh." _Shit. I don't know if this is a good idea._

"What're you guys doing?" Blaine blurted, rubbing his side and glaring at Jim.

"What?" _Am I leading him on? I did say it was just coffee. Didn't I?_

"Do you know what you two are going to do?"

_...wait, no, I didn't. But he knows, right? He said it didn't have to mean anything. I mean...it'll be fine. It's __just coffee__. _"Coffee," he replied bemusedly, laboring to sit up.

"You seem so enthusiastic," Jim teased playfully.

"Wh- -oh, sorry." He rubbed his face hard and tried to focus. "I am. Really. I'm just kind of nervous."

"Why?"

That was probably the only thing Kurt could have said that would have been able to pull Blaine from his astonished stupor. "No, no, don't be," he exclaimed, moving closer. "Jeff's a great guy. You don't have to be worried about it."

"I- -I know, but..."

_'Because up until yesterday, I had never been kissed.' _"He's not a Karofsky," Blaine whispered, quietly enough that Jim wouldn't be able to hear him. "I promise."

"I didn't really think he was, but...I don't know. I've never been on a real date before," Kurt admitted quietly.

Blaine's heart twisted. "So that's definitely what this is, then?"

Jim made a noise of disbelief from his desk that Blaine knew to mean _shut the fuck up_, and he paled. He'd actually said that out loud. Well, damn.

Kurt looked up as though he'd only just realized that Blaine was actually in the room, and shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest."

...and if _that _wasn't confusing as hell, Blaine didn't know what was. "What do you mean?" he asked kindly, trying to ignore the intense feeling of- -was that _relief? _

He sighed. "I think he wants it to be."

"What'd he say?" Blaine pressed, a little more urgently than he'd meant to.

"Something about how he wants to get to know me better, but that it doesn't have to mean anything if I don't want it to."

"Do you want it to?" Jim interjected, arching a still-semi-confused eyebrow.

If he was being honest, the answer was no, because the only person he could imagine doing datey things with was Blaine. But he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that, so he settled for making a noncommittal sound and kind of twitching his shoulder.

And suddenly, Blaine felt a little nauseous. Not that he had anything against Jeff or anything, because he so didn't. Not really. It was just...weird, imagining him with Kurt. Would he hold the door open for him? Offer to pay for his coffee, and hold his hand as they walked back to school? Kiss him goodbye at the door to his room?

O_kay_, stopping that train of thought now, because for some reason, he was having trouble thinking of Nick without getting kind of, extremely pissy. And that was a little scary, because really, what did he have to be angry at Nick about? Nothing. This Kurt date thing...it didn't matter. Really. He just...wanted to make sure that Kurt was being treated as well as he deserved to be.

Totally.

* * *

Nick was plucking aimlessly at his guitar when Jeff all but floated through the door. "What're you playing?"

He looked up, half-smiling. "Dunno. Just screwing around. Did you want me to play something in particular?"

He beamed and plunked gracelessly beside his best friend. "Nah. Whatever you want."

_He's glowing_. "I'm guessing he said yes?" Nick queried, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest.

"We're going to get coffee on Wednesday after practice," he answered cheerfully. "I mean, I don't know if it's a real date or what, but I get to hang out with him. And that's cool, right? Like, that's a good sign?"

"I think it is," Nick answered automatically, even though his immediate mental reaction was, 'how do you not know whether or not you've got a date?' "At least you know that he wants to hang out with you. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" His face brightened. "You're so right."

"It'll be great."

_Great._

**Please don't hate me! There's a reason for all this, I swear! **

**And I'm so sorry for how long this took, and I'm even more sorry if it's really disappointing, but I desperately wanted to get something out today for you, because I feel terrible about the wait. Also, this is deeply unedited, because I have to leave for class in literally ten minutes.**

**There's a new poll on my author page that's actually even more important than the Silly Love Songs one, so please, please, _please_ go vote.**

**Also, I still haven't seen "Born This Way"...I'm a combination of really excited and already kind of sad. Damn spoilers.**


	8. More Angst, and the Date that Wasn't

**Author's Note: Much quicker, yes? *is proud of self* Okay. Several notes:**

**1. A huge thank you to xBleedingBlackRosex for letting me know that I accidentally called Jeff Nick toward the end of last chapter. Sorry about that, everyone! :)**

**2. There are *definite* hints of one-sided Neff in this chapter. The poll on my author page is staying up for a while longer, so make your voice heard as to whether or not you want them to have their own little side story within this one. (Keep in mind that my focus will still be Klaine, I promise!)**

**3. Um. Oh! Yes. I have a tumblr now! Like, I just got it today, so right now it's really boring, but in the near future, there will be spoilers and I'll answer questions, and possibly even little side-drabbly things, if you want them...it's jesski10 . tumblr . com if you feel like following me. (If not, I'm not offended. xD)**

**4. Glee: still not mine. If it were, there would be more Klaine. And the Warblers would still be on. Jussayin'.**

**Done. Enjoy! (Be gentle on typos. It is so late.) Love you all!**

"I didn't know you were interested in Jeff," Blaine said casually later that evening, as he lounged in Kurt's room, (attempting to start) studying for his French exam, while the countertenor labored over his bio project.

"What?" Kurt asked absently, letting out a frustrated little huff and running his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time.

"I'm just...I didn't know you and Jeff talked," Blaine edited, focusing studiously on the book in front of him.

"I didn't- -" _know you cared. _"We haven't really, much."

"Oh." He blinked, and, at a loss, let silence reign once more.

But Kurt couldn't focus after _that_, because what was the point of asking if the answer didn't mean something? Right? It had to be..._something_. So, so hopefully that it hurt and with absolutely zero effort, he looked away from his work. "Why d'you ask?"

Blaine shrugged, doodling something random in the margin of his textbook. "I'm just a little surprised. I mean, no offense of course, because that's...um. Great. But..."

"But what?" Kurt asked, trying to disguise the sudden swell of hurt as mere curiosity.

_But what_? Blaine wondered, grasping desperately for something to say that actually made sense. "I...am...um. Jeff. Doesn't usually...date. He's a great guy, though," he hurried on, seeing a brief flicker of confusion, and maybe a little fear, in Kurt's gaze. "He just isn't the type to make the first move." _There you go. Thank you, coherent brain wave._ "So I guess that's why I'm having a little trouble making sense of it."

"Oh." How disappointing.

More silence.

_Awk. Ward._

Blaine gave up first. "Can you help me with this? I'm beginning to think I'll never understand it."

"Sure." He held out his hand, accepting the proffered worksheet. "_Oh_, the conditional tense? That's not so bad. See, your problem's right here..."

* * *

Kurt yawned loudly, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to eliminate the strain from his body. After everything that had happened the day before, with Jeff, and Blaine, and the newly-formed tension between them that they still hadn't quite managed to shake, Kurt hadn't been able to sleep at all. And now, after yet another grueling day, all he wanted was to get out of this godforsaken uniform and zone out for a couple of hours.

But, of course, this was Dalton, and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get away without something ridiculous happening. And sure enough, the moment he walked into the commons, Kurt halted, glaring at the arch of the doorway. "What the hell is that?"

"That would be mistletoe," Wes announced, popping up behind Kurt and effectively scaring the crap out of him.

"Why is it hanging in random places all over the commons? It looks ridiculous in here."

"It's December now," Wes replied, as though this explained everything. And in a way, Kurt supposed it did.

"And December means that it's a necessity of life to hang mistletoe on every available inch of ceiling?"

"It's _fun_," Wes answered petulantly, sticking his tongue out.

"I feel violated just being in this room," Kurt objected, more because it was kind of fun to annoy Wes than because it was actually true. He'd just have to be more careful about stopping to talk to people whenever the urge struck him in here, which was kind of irritating, but not really that big of a deal.

"It's the best part of the holidays," he insisted, with a maniacal gleam in his eye that was more than a little terrifying. "You will learn, young grasshopper."

"Doubtful." He yawned again. "Whatever. I am so not equipped to deal with your brand of crazy right now. If anyone's looking for me, I'm taking a nap."

"And by 'anyone,' you mean Blaine. No worries, I'll be sure to let him know he can come sing you to sleep when I see him," Wes singsonged cheerfully. It was the first time he'd pointed out Kurt's attraction to their best friend, at least, to Kurt's face, but he couldn't help it. He was just so..._obvious_. And _adorable. _

"Shut up," Kurt snapped, dark splotches of color blooming in his cheeks. "I'm going upstairs."

"What did you do?" Blaine demanded on long-polished instinct, having managed to walk in just as Kurt stormed dramatically away. Wes fluttered his lashes exaggeratedly.

"Why do you assume that I did something?"

"Uh, because you're always doing something worthy of concern."

"Well, I'm offended." Wes sniffed. "I didn't. He just doesn't approve of our decorating scheme."

Blaine looked around, and his eyes widened. "Oh, God, I forgot it was time for this."

"Of _course _it's time for this!"

The realization hit Blaine hard, and Wes watched in vague confusion as his entire expression changed. "How did Kurt react to all this?"

"...with a potent combination of amusement, exasperation and exhaustion?" he offered. "Why?"

"So he didn't seem...worried, or anything?"

"No. Why should he?"

"I was just checking," Blaine muttered. "I'm, uh...did he mention where he was going?"

"To take a nap. He looked totally wiped." Wes's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. I'll see you at dinner." Despite Wes's words, Blaine couldn't help being a little concerned, so he slipped up the stairs and knocked gently on Kurt's door. "Are you awake?"

"Kind of," came the slightly slurred response, and he smiled fondly.

"Is it okay if I come in?"

"'Course."

Kurt, Blaine discovered, had shrugged off his blazer and was sprawled out on his bed, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, the better to eliminate any and all tension inspired by this absolutely ridiculous day. Blaine swallowed hard and focused his gaze on the stretch of wall just over Kurt's head. _Perving on your best friend is not allowed, Anderson._

_ Even if your best friend just so happens to be really good looking, and similarly homosexual. That does _not _mean he wants you checking him out._

_ It. Does. Not._

_ Besides, that's weird. Stop._

"What's up?" Kurt asked, pushing himself up on his elbows, which, oh, hey, just kind of exposed a little extra skin. "You okay?"

"Totally!" Blaine exclaimed, just a little too loudly. "I was actually just...going to ask you the same question. Because Wes told me you'd disappeared up here to come take a nap, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't feeling sick or stressed out or anything."

The smile that bloomed on Kurt's face at Blaine's genuine concern was completely involuntary. And any awkwardness between them, thankfully, seemed to have completely dissipated. "No, I'm fine. I'm just tired. Mondays are always kind of...sucky."

"I gotcha." He grinned understandingly. "How do you like the, uh, festivities?" It was his none-too-subtle way of asking if Kurt was freaked out by Wes and David's traditional holiday overkill, and he was pleasantly surprised when the other boy snorted.

"They are utterly ridiculous. It's my life goal now to make sure either Wes or David gets stuck at least once before Christmas break comes around."

"It's been known to happen. Never deters them," Blaine answered casually. "We've all gotten really, really good at having conversations with each other from like ten feet away, just to avoid that possibility. It's nothing to worry about."

_And there it is_. Kurt's smile widened. Was it even possible for Blaine to be anything other than perfect? "I'm not worried about that here, of all places."

"Good, good. I mean, even if you did get stuck under...under the...yeah. Even if it happened, no one would actually _make _you...do anything about it."

"Comforting," Kurt allowed, swallowing a laugh. "Thanks for coming up to check on me, though. It was really nice of you."

"Hey, of course. Any time." He kept his eyes very carefully on Kurt's face as he spoke. "Do you want to get some dinner at around six?"

"Sure. Actually, would you mind coming and knocking on my door to make sure I wake up?"

"I'm not going to wake you, if you're sleeping. I'd feel bad," Blaine protested, and Kurt shook his head rapidly.

"No, no, no, if I sleep longer than an hour I'll never be able to sleep tonight. Do not even hesitate."

He sucked air through his teeth. "Okay. If you're sure."

"Very. Very sure." He laughed softly- -couldn't help it. "You worry too much."

"It's a problem." Blaine smirked. "I'll see you at six, then, Kurt."

It was kind of bad that the thought of waking up to Blaine made it almost impossible for Kurt to fall asleep at all. Still, it was relaxing to be able to lie there and force himself not to think (using the ever-logical thought process of, _hey, if I were sleeping, I definitely wouldn't be thinking about the millions of things that I should be doing instead, so I shouldn't let them bother me now)_, and when the gentle knock came at his door at six on the nose, Kurt very pointedly didn't acknowledge it.

_So sue him, was it so bad that maybe he just wanted to know what was going to happen? _

Another quiet knock, and then Blaine cautiously tried the door. It had been unlocked before, and it was unlocked now. "I'm coming in," he warned Kurt, his voice unintentionally husky, and Kurt's heart caught.

He looked so...so _peaceful_, like this. Younger, and so innocent that it almost hurt. How could anyone hurt him the way they'd done? Blaine sat carefully on the edge of Kurt's bed, gently brushing his bangs out of his eyes. It was too much, and Kurt had to think quickly in order to pass his surprised gasp off as a sleepy sigh. Blaine pulled away guiltily once he showed signs of stirring, but stayed seated. "Kurt?"

"Mm, morning," Kurt hummed, hoping his tone came off as appropriately drowsy, and that Blaine could not, as he couldn't help fearing, tell that his heart was racing so fast that he felt almost lightheaded.

"Good morning," he parroted, grinning. Kurt faked another yawn for good measure, and then Blaine added a rueful, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I, um. Waking you up." _For watching you sleep like a creepy, sparkly vampire. Really, I am so, so sorry. Not going to happen again, I assure you._

"I asked you to," Kurt pointed out, smiling slightly.

"Still. You looked so relaxed."

_Really? Because I was internally freaking out, because you are __on my bed__. And the door is shut, and my roommate is nowhere in sight. _"Well, I'm glad you woke me, anyway. I'm starving!" he exclaimed. It wasn't all that true, actually, but it was the distraction that he desperately needed, given the turn his thoughts had taken.

"To the food, then, good sir!" Blaine replied, laughing and holding out a hand in a playfully gallant manner.

* * *

Nick, meanwhile, had no intention of eating (or leaving his room, possibly ever again. Except that was a seriously melodramatic thought, and he needed to _get a fucking grip)_. He groaned, flopping limply across his bed. Jeff had been bouncing around hyperactively all afternoon, and as much as he loved his best friend, he also knew exactly what it was that had him so excited. And now that there were t-minus twenty-four hours until The Date, it was getting progressively more difficult to pretend to be excited for him.

And progressively more difficult to hide his feelings.

Thing was, it wasn't as though he'd set out to hide his sexuality from Jeff. But when the realization that you're gay hits at the same moment that you realize that you're in love with your best friend...well, you're kind of scared to reveal all that. And he couldn't just tell Jeff the first half and not the second, because God knew the last thing he needed was for his friend to start trying to set him up with other guys. No, it was better that Jeff just...not know. Or think Nick asexual or whatever.

Honestly, Nick was beginning to seriously miss the days when he thought he just hadn't met the right girl yet, or that maybe he _was _asexual. He'd only realized that he was gay a few months ago, after all...and then Kurt had come, and with him, Nick's hope had begun to wilt. It was _lonely_, he thought. He kind of, desperately, wanted to tell someone, but Jeff wasn't an option; and though he had a lot of friends, he didn't necessarily confide in all of them. Especially about something like this. And he almost wanted to go to Blaine, but he wasn't an option because Kurt obviously liked him, and talking to him about Nick's own sexuality crisis felt like some kind of weird betrayal.

And now he wasn't even making sense in his own mind. _Great._

Well, he was going to have to tell _someone._ He couldn't keep dealing with it in silence, or he was going to lose his mind.

Somehow, he found himself at Blaine's door, even though it wasn't Blaine he was searching for. Jim wasn't quite as removed from the whole Blaine-Kurt-Jeff triangle as Nick himself had wanted to get, but he'd been great with Blaine when the other boy had first arrived at Dalton, so Nick was reasonably confident that he'd be a good listener. It wasn't even like he was going to tell Jim how he felt about Jeff; _that _he couldn't bear to admit to anyone. So it was going to be fine.

_Hopefully._

He knocked before he could chicken out, and there were a few muffled thuds and some muffled cursing before the door swung open.

"Hi," Jim greeted him, blinking confusedly. "Are you looking for Blaine, 'coz he's- -"

"No, actually," Nick interrupted, reddening. "I just wanted...can I come in?"

"Of course!" He backed up, quickly, to let him pass. "You okay?"

_This was stupid. I'm being ridiculous. We hardly ever even _talk_. _"Yeah. Yeah. I'm...sorry, I just wasn't really thinking that clearly. Never mind, it's really nothing..."

But Jim was not having _any _of this, and he stepped deftly in front of Nick, blocking his exit. "Oh, come on. I'm not going to judge you, I swear."

He wilted slightly. "I...I don't know."

"You're already here," Jim pointed out, with an unusual amount of patience. "Just come sit."

Nick sank down with a sigh. "I'm sorry. It's just...I'm just really...I'm gay."

Jim blinked twice. "...okay."

"And I just...I didn't want to keep hiding it, but I wasn't sure who to talk to."

"Oh. Wow. I...it means a lot to me that I'd be the person you'd come to. Does Jeff know?"

"No." He picked uncertainly at a loose thread in Jim's comforter. "I'm kind of afraid to tell him."

"Wait, why?" Jim stifled a sigh. It was times like these he wished he was better with words, better at comforting people who were obviously in distress. Because he really _did _want to comfort Nick, and all he was hoping for at the moment was that he didn't end up inadvertently making the poor kid feel worse.

"Be-because." He bit his lip, hard. "I've been hiding it from him for months, because when I realized it, I als-I mean, I...I don't know. I haven't even told my parents yet. I guess...I guess I was hoping that if I ignored it, everything would go back to the way it was before. Simple."

"Well..." Gently, he put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "It's really up to you, but you don't have to worry about being judged, among the Warblers at the very least. You mean a lot to us. We'd be willing to do whatever we can to help you, you know? Especially Jeff...you're his best friend."

Nick smiled, a little shakily. "Thank you. I...it actually makes me feel a little better just to know that...well, that you know, and you still want to be my friend."

Jim's eyes widened. "Of course I- -Nick, good God, you're not the only gay kid at Dalton! You being gay does _not _make you any less awesome. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

He laughed outright now, kind of meekly. "Well, thank you. For listening to me."

"Of course! Jeez, why wouldn't I have? You're my friend, dude." Playfully, he slugged Nick on the arm. "Now stop freaking out and promise me you'll talk to Jeff."

"I...I don't want to burden him. He's got his...his date coming up."

His face fell just slightly as he spoke- -just enough for Jim to notice. "The thing with Kurt, you mean?" he asked innocently, hoping that with enough prodding, he'd be able to confirm his sudden assumption.

"Yeah. That." He kicked at the ground lightly. "I hope it works out for him."

"You don't sound too convinced."

Nick's head snapped up, face registering just a little fear. "It's nothing against Kurt, I mean, it's just..."

"You don't think they're right for each other."

"...no."

"Neither do I," Jim admitted. "Don't say anything to anyone, though. But I think that even though they're both great..."

"They aren't great _for _each other. They need people who really know them. Who really _understand _them," Nick exclaimed passionately, and Jim hid a grin.

_Suspicions confirmed._

* * *

"Hey," Jeff greeted Kurt the following afternoon, bouncing to his feet. He had changed out of his uniform, into a simple pair of jeans and a polo, and the color climbed slightly in his cheeks as he noticed Kurt's outfit. "You look...really great."

"Thank you," Kurt murmured, feeling himself blush a little, too, and he picked an imaginary piece of lint off his favorite McQueen sweater. (Because, while it was true that he knew he looked good, he was so not used to getting compliments from boys. Especially not boys who he was about to go _out _with, oh my God, he was about to go out with a boy. A boy he'd hardly ever even spoken to, a boy who was really nice, whose eyes sparkled when he smiled- -which was often- -but a boy who was a little too tall, a little too blonde, a little too _not Blaine_, and _no. _No, he couldn't afford to think like this. What was the point of ruining the afternoon before it could even happen?) "So do you."

Jeff's shoulder kind of twitched, and they fell into step with one another easily. "Eh. I do what I can. Wish I had your fashion sense, though." Truth was, this was Nick's shirt, because Jeff was actually mostly the jeans-and-a-hoodie (or a t-shirt) type when he actually had the chance to get out of uniform, and he'd been sort of desperate to impress Kurt. So, after about twenty minutes of watching Jeff rip apart his entire closet in search of something suitable, Nick had rolled his eyes, balled up the shirt, and tossed it at his back. 'Wear that, idiot,' he'd ordered. 'It'll bring out your eyes. Or whatever.' Jeff had thought about teasing him for the comment, except that he'd put the shirt on first, and wow, Nick had actually been right. So instead of screwing with him, Jeff had leapt onto his bed and tackle-hugged him, crushing his history notes in the process.

Kurt laughed quietly. "You and I should go shopping one day. You could benefit immensely from my epic bargain-hunting skills." Jeff's eyes lit up, and Kurt cursed himself internally. They hadn't even managed to get to the cafe yet, and he was already planting ideas in Jeff's head that there would undoubtedly be more than one date. _Great. _

"I don't know, though. I'm pretty much the most annoying person in the world to shop with," Jeff admitted, carding his fingers through his hair. "It drives Nick insane, 'coz I'll always stand there in front of the same sweater for like twenty minutes and then end up not buying it. I think that's why I usually stick with sweatshirts and t-shirts. They're easier to buy."

"That's a great shirt, though. It brings out your eyes. See, all hope is _not yet lost_."

"It's Nick's," he confessed, coloring slightly. "That's actually exactly what he said when he lent it to me."

Kurt clucked his tongue, half-playfully disapproving. "Well, thank Gaga you have someone to help you. You are so not living up to your full potential, Jeffrey."

He shrugged self-deprecatingly. "You're probably right."

"You aren't supposed to agree with that statement. You're supposed to put up a violently melodramatic fight from which I will emerge the victor after much wheedling, manipulation, and forced shopping excursions."

Jeff snorted. "I'll totally keep that in mind for next time."

"See that you do," he answered mock primly.

Talking about fashion had distracted him enough that he hadn't even realized they'd arrived at their destination, and he tensed just slightly when Jeff put his hand on the small of Kurt's back to alert him. (Because Blaine did that, and Jeff was so not Blaine, and _wow _that was confusing...and this was really, really wrong, wasn't it- -what Kurt was doing?) He shook it off, hoping Jeff hadn't noticed, and smiled as warmly as possible when he realized that actually, Jeff kind of _had _felt his tension, and had wilted a little in response to it. "Thanks," he grinned, fussing with his bangs nervously. "I totally wasn't paying attention."

That was enough to get Jeff to relax, thankfully, and the other boy all but beamed in response. "Eh, no worries. I do stuff like that, like, _all _the time. 's coz usually I don't shut up. Annoys the hell out of...people." _Why do I keep wanting to bring up Nick? This makes absolutely no sense._

Thank God, thank God, thank _God _Kurt managed to order and pay before Jeff could offer to buy his coffee for him, because as long as he could avoid that pitfall, he could pretend that this was just a normal outing between two friends, and that there was no chance that Jeff was actually interested in him in _that way_.

It was quiet for a while, before Jeff spoke up again. "You know...I never got the chance to tell you, because of how crazy everything got, but...you have an absolutely _unbelievable _voice. I think I was too nervous about my own audition to tell you back when it actually happened."

"Thank you." He flushed slightly. "Jeff, can I ask you a question?"

"No. You're not allowed," he teased, letting his foot brush Kurt's in a playful nudge. "...no, but in all seriousness, feel free."

"Have you really auditioned _six times_?"

A rueful smile bloomed on Jeff's lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I have."

"And you haven't gotten a solo yet?" Kurt's horror was palpable. "How can you stand to keep trying?" His eyes widened the moment he stopped speaking. "I'm sorry, that came out a lot less tactfully than I intended."

"It's a good question. I don't know, I guess I'm just...optimistic to a fault." He toyed uncertainly with his straw. "I'm kind of jealous of the way your glee club does it. Because at least you get to sing for each other, even if it's not during competition."

"That's the only thing I even miss about McKinley," Kurt admitted, fussing with his napkin. "New Directions, I mean. Everything else...not so much."

Jeff bit his lip. "I- -you don't have to tell me, but...was it really bad?"

"I'm here," Kurt pointed out. "I left my best friends and my family to come here. It got..._really_ bad."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just- -"

"No, no, it's fine. It's...have you ever gone to public school, Jeff?"

"Never. I've never experienced bullying like that. I- -I can't even imagine what you've been through."

"You look absolutely terrified. Calm. Take breaths, Jeff. No worries, okay?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry." He paused. "But...but are you okay? I mean, do you like it here?"

"I do. I really do. I mean, I'm a little homesick, but...I'm getting better, you know?"

"Kurt, you do know you have people here who care about you, don't you? I mean, you've got Blaine, Wes, David...m-me...I just...if you ever need anything, _any _of us would be willing to help you, you know?"

"That means a lot to me," he murmured, sipping slowly at his coffee.

"I do know what you mean, though," Jeff admitted. "If I didn't have Nick, I'd pretty much be lost."

"You guys are really close, huh?"

"He's my best friend," Jeff replied animatedly. "We've known each other for-freakin'-ever. I sometimes think he's the only one who actually knows me. So...so I think I get exactly what you mean."

Kurt's eyebrows inched up in a combination of interest and mild amusement. Whether or not he'd realized it, once he'd mentioned Nick, Jeff's entire demeanor had changed. It was almost...(_almost like what happens every time you see Blaine_) almost as though there was something between them. Something not so platonic. He was almost tempted to ask about it, but considering that they were on a date...thing, that would probably be extremely awkward.

"Does he ever date?" he asked, all casual, and Jeff blinked.

"Huh?"

"Nick. Does he ever date?"

"Not...recently. Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

"Eh, I don't know. He always says he's not interested in anyone, but I don't know if I believe him."

"Oh?" Kurt bit back a triumphant smile. "Which way does Nick actually swing?"

"He's never said," Jeff admitted, looking a little troubled. "I mean, I kind of thought he'd tell me if he was gay, and he's dated a few girls, but...I don't know." He was shredding his napkin without even realizing it. "Maybe we're not as close as I thought we were?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't he tell me? Doesn't he trust me? I mean...I tell him everything, and...God, it's not like I'm going to think any less of him, you know?"

"Maybe he just hasn't quite come to terms with it yet. Give him time. I'm sure it's nothing about you," he answered, with the most comforting smile he could muster.

Jeff relaxed slightly, letting go of the shreds of slightly sodden paper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, like, ruin this."

"You haven't ruined anything!" Kurt assured him honestly. "It's been really great to have the chance to talk to you."

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely!"

The conversation settled back into more neutral topics, and eventually, they realized that it was getting dangerously close to dinner time. "We should get back, huh?" Jeff asked, a little ruefully.

"Probably," Kurt agreed, balling up his napkin. "It's been really fun, though."

"So much fun," Jeff confirmed.

He could feel the uncertainty radiating from the other boy the whole way back to campus, and he supposed it made sense. The evening was drawing to a close, and...well, he hadn't exactly been as clear as he should have about whether or not this was a date. "Jeff, I..."

He turned to face Kurt so quickly, so hopefully, that it was almost painful. "Yeah?"

"I have...really, really liked hanging out with you today. But..."

"You're not feeling it, huh?"

"It's not about you, I promise you that. It's me. It's...it's Blaine."

"You really into him?"

He bit his lip, hard. "I...well..."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Jeff promised quickly. "It's...it's okay." But he couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes. "Hey, it's no big deal. He's a great guy."

Kurt shook his head, amazed. "You're too nice."

"Nah, I just...I don't know. I hope it works out for you. I really, really do."

"Don't give up on Nick, okay?"

"What?"

"Everything will be okay with you two. Don't give up on him just yet."

"Thanks," Jeff replied, smiling and instinctively holding the door open for Kurt. "And...and thanks for giving me a chance."

_How does one respond to that_? "If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm still here for you, you know. I still want to be friends. Is...is that okay?"

"Dude, of course!" They were still walking as they talked, neither of them bothering to pay any particular attention to where they were going. "Today was still really fun."

"Yeah, it definitely was." He checked the time and winced. "I should probably get back to my room, though. This place is, like, the other end of the spectrum when it comes to work."

"Okay, see you." Jeff rocked forward on the balls of his feet as though he wanted to hug Kurt, but wasn't sure if it was okay. In response, Kurt's heart melted just a little, and he pulled the blonde into a quick embrace.

"'Night, Jeff."

* * *

_ "_Jesus Christ, Blaine," Jim complained, not lifting his eyes from his book. "Will you fucking stop pacing?"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just...I don't know."

"You're freaking out. Sit the fuck down. It's only been a few hours."

"It was just coffee, though. I kind of figured he'd be back by now."

"Well, he's not." He flipped a page, loudly. "You know, you really should talk to him if this bothers you so much."

"What are you talking about?"

"Blaine. Please." Finally deigning to lift his eyes, Jim glared. "Poor Jeff tried to say hello to you this morning and you looked at him like you wanted to punch him in the face."

"I did not!" he protested, horrified.

"A slight exaggeration," he admitted. "_Slight._ He still walked away looking confused as hell. Listen to me. Talk. To. Kurt."

"There's nothing to talk about! I just want him to be happy."

Jim exhaled loudly. "What the _fuck _is _with _you people?"

"What people?"

"You, and him, and Nick, and God only knows who else."

"What does Nick have to do with any of this?"

"Okay, you are completely missing the point. Kurt does not want to date Jeff. Nick does not want Jeff to date Kurt, and _you _don't want Kurt to date Jeff. And I think, eventually, Jeff's going to realize that he doesn't really want to date Kurt, either. But for some stupid-ass reason you're all hiding behind the same exact argument because you're too afraid to do anything about it."

"Wait, is Nick gay?"

He coughed. "...I mean, I didn't say that. Maybe he just doesn't think Jeff and Kurt would make a good couple?"

Blaine blinked and shook his head. "Okay, whatever, the point is that you're not getting what I'm trying to say."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who _does _get it, and- -"

"Could you just let me finish?"

"Are you going to say something that makes sense?" Jim shot back, crossing his arms.

"I don't understand why we're _fighting _about this!"

"Because you've got the chance to do something that will make you really, really happy for once, and you're letting it get away!"

"Okay, so if, hypothetically, you were right- -and I am _not _saying that you are- -that would only work if Kurt was interested in me that way, too. And if he were, he wouldn't be out with Jeff right now, would he?"

"Absolutely, Blaine, and you know why? Because you fucking _encouraged _him to go! When he showed up here the other day, all confused and shit, I will bet you fucking _anything _that he just wanted you to be like, 'No, Kurt, don't go out with Jeff. Because I want you to go out with me instead.'"

"I couldn't say that!" Blaine exploded. "I couldn't, because I don't know if it's true, and I will _not _let myself become one of the people who's disappointed him!"

That brought Jim up short. "What do you mean?"

"Look, Kurt's had a hard time of it, okay? He doesn't need anyonemaking it worse."

Jim closed his eyes and sighed. "Alright, yeah, I get that. But just...try to figure yourself out, okay? Because I really think that the two of you could be something, if you could get your heads out of your asses for longer than five seconds."

Blaine laughed despite himself. "Charming."

"I do what I can." He yawned loudly. "Alright, if I try to study any more, I'm going to incinerate this book with the hate-beams from my mind alone. Let's go get some food."

* * *

He was halfway out the door to the commons when Jeff spoke again. "Hey, Kurt?"

"What's up?"

"I...wanted to thank you," he replied abruptly, twisting his fingers together. "For being honest with me, I mean. And...yeah."

Kurt's heart twisted. "I'm sorry. You're...you're fantastic, Jeff. Honestly. And if I could- -could _choose _who I had feelings for...then things would be different." He wasn't sure that it was true, but he wanted to make this better, make the hurt vanish from Jeff's eyes. "You deserve better than me," he added softly. "You deserve a guy who's going to tell you everything you want to hear and mean it; a guy who's going to make you feel as special as you are. And I don't think I can be that guy."

Jeff nodded slowly. "It's okay. I- -I really do appreciate you telling me." He glanced up and gave a strange half-laugh. "Jesus."

"Wha- -oh, _Jesus_," Kurt echoed, glaring exasperatedly up at the deceptively innocuous-looking sprig hanging over their heads. "Why Wes and David thought this was a good idea, I will absolutely _never _understand."

"They got caught under there last year. You'd think they'd have learned then, but..." Jeff shook his head incredulously. "I think they liked it. But...well, I- -you don't have to...I mean, there's no one around, and I- -"

And he sounded so _sad _that it killed Kurt a little inside, so before he could even really think about it, he leaned forward and gently, gently pressed his lips to Jeff's cheek, far enough from his lips that there was no way any "accidents" could happen. "I really am sorry, Jeff."

"I know," Jeff whispered, and managed a small smile. "I've gotta go. Bye, Kurt."

Kurt sighed as Jeff disappeared, sinking slowly down onto the nearest armchair. How utterly exhausting this whole day had turned out to be. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in the flurry of emotions, he might have noticed that Blaine had happened to be passing by the commons just in time to inadvertently witness the kind-of kiss with Jeff- -and hadn't managed to move from the doorway since.


	9. In Which There Is Much Singing

**Kay. Things:**

**1. This is the longest chapter yet, and I was actually planning for it to get further than it did, dammit. But if I didn't stop here and post, it was going to end up being utterly ridiculous. HOWEVER, if I have my way, I will fiiiinally be able to move on to the Superbowl Shuffle after one more chapter. **

**2. Okay, there were two people who told me they didn't want to read anymore if I included a Neff side story, and I respect that. I'm not going to try to stop you, and I'm not offended by any means, but I do just want to let you all know that there is no way their story will take over the entire fic, and hypothetically, if you wanted to, you could just skip those bits. That said, THERE IS NEFF. THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN, and most of you said you'd love to see it. I LOVE YOU ALL, PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME.**

**3. There will be character pictures of Jim and Paul on tumblr, for those of you who have any interest at all in what they look like. :) Also, the occasional scene that I decided not to publish on here for whatever reason. (jesski10 . tumblr . com)**

**4. I don't own the song "Not Alone," and it isn't used the way you'll expect. We're going to pretend that it's not written by Blaine (and technically it's not), kay? Thanks. **

**It is almost 3 in the morning, you guys. GAHH, I'M SORRY I'M SO INCOHERENT. **

**Oh, right, Glee disclaimed.**

"How'd it go, ya big stud?" Nick teased as he wandered through the door, freezing as he realized that, far from mooning up at the ceiling whilst wearing an expression of extreme joy, Jeff was curled up under his blanket, picking selectively at his homework- -undoubtedly an attempt at distracting himself from something, which Nick would've been able to tell even if Jeff wasn't blasting "Bad Day" at top volume, headphones discarded uselessly on the floor. (Incidentally, Nick would probably never understand why Jeff actually thought that song was _helpful _when he was depressed. In Nick's experience, it had a tendency to make everything worse.) He crossed the room in a few quick strides, paused the music and sat down next to his friend. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm okay."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "Right. Totally believable, Jeff, really."

"It was _fine_." He hated his own petulant tone, but for once, he really didn't want to talk to Nick about this. Kurt had actually been fairly gracious about the whole thing, but it still hurt to be outright told that there was no way there'd be anything between them.

Nick drew back slightly, stung by the bite in his voice. "Okay. Sorry."

"Wait, wait, I'm sorry." Jeff sighed. "It just...it was fun, but it...it didn't go like I hoped it would. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay," he replied soothingly. "You had a bad day. It happens."

"It wasn't even a bad _date_, though. I actually thought it was a good date. But then apparently it wasn't."

"What'd he say?"

Jeff winced, and he curled in on himself a little. "He doesn't like me."

"He said that?" Nick's eyes flashed protectively, angrily. Because dammit, if Jeff was miserable, then what the hell was he supposed to do? Besides, he was ordinarily so happy-go-lucky that it actually hurt Nick to see him so distressed.

"He was really cool about it," Jeff muttered, shoving his hands through his hair. "Don't be mad at him, I know you don't like him."

"I don't dislike him," Nick corrected automatically. _I hate that he was able to take you from me without even trying. _"I told you that before."

"I know, but..." He shrugged. "Whatever. Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Do you want to go out to try to get your mind off it? We could go get real food or something."

"Thanks, but...I don't know. I have so much to do." He heaved a sigh and smiled slightly, self-deprecatingly. "I didn't get anything done yesterday, 'coz I was so excited."

Nick was pretty sure his heart broke in that moment, though whether it was for himself or in sympathy for his friend, he wasn't sure. Hesitatingly, he reached out and put his hand on top of Jeff's, even though that _so _wasn't the kind of thing they usually did. It was more, y'know. Impromptu tackling and random wrestling matches. "D'you want me to stay, or...I mean, I can go do something else if you want to be alone."

"No, stay. I'm not gonna kick you out of your own room, Nick. Jeez."

"It's your room, too," Nick pointed out, trying very hard not to think about the fact that Jeff had kind of turned his hand so that their fingers were sort of a little intertwined.

Jeff shrugged. "I don't really feel like being alone."

"Okay." _Focus, focus. _"If you need help or whatever, just. Um. Let me know." He was annoyed with himself the moment he stopped speaking, but if Jeff even noticed his clumsy wording, he didn't seem bothered by it.

"I think I'm okay. Thanks, though."

"No problem." With effort, he disentangled his hand from Jeff's and got up. "I'll be over at my desk, trying to force myself to be productive."

It had the desired effect of making Jeff laugh, which was going to have to be enough for the moment. "Yeah, well, good luck to both of us, I guess."

Nick hadn't gotten through more than a page of his Brit Lit assignment when Jeff spoke again. "Will you play something?"

"What?"

"Will you play?" Jeff's eyes were studiously fixed on his history text. "I kinda wanna hear your voice."

The ache that had been plaguing him lately awoke anew. "Play what?"

"Dunno. Something. Anything." He scribbled randomly in the margin of his page and shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever's stuck in your head, I guess."

"Sure." He'd left his guitar on his bed earlier that morning, and he abandoned his homework without a second thought to go to it. He tilted his head, strumming a few chords experimentally, and the next thing he knew, the song was spilling from his lips before he'd even consciously chosen it.

_"_I've been alone,

Surrounded by darkness.

I've seen how heartless

The world can be.

I've seen you crying.

You felt like it's hopeless.

I'll always do my best

To make you see...

Jeff was beginning to grin now- -he knew the song well. Climbing off his bed, he slowly made his way over to Nick, who looked up and graced him with a small smile as he continued.

"Baby, you're not alone,

Cause you're here with me.

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down,

Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you,

And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come to be,

Our love is all we need to make it through."

It occurred to Nick as he sang that this probably wasn't a good idea, if he wanted to keep his feelings a secret, because um hello. How much more obvious did it get, really? In the midst of his internal freakout, though, he summoned up enough courage to make eye contact with Jeff. The other boy had seated himself comfortably on the foot of Nick's bed and was swaying slightly to the music and watching him intently, apparently unaware of the (not so hidden) subtext. But...well, really, it was possible singing it from a purely friendship standpoint, anyway, and so there wasn't any reason to panic. Right? Nick drew a deep breath and pressed on, holding Jeff's gaze all the while.

"Now I know it ain't easy,

But it ain't hard trying

Every time I see you smiling

And I feel you so close to me

And you tell me,

Baby, you're not alone,

Cause you're here with me.

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down.

Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you,

And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come to be,

Our love is all we need to make it through.

Oh dear God, he was going to cry. And that not okay for so many different reasons that he couldn't even begin to name them all. He tore his eyes away and stared, hard, down at his guitar, playing whatever random chords popped into his head as he struggled to pull himself together. No, there was no way he was going to be able to finish the song. And as Jeff pulled the guitar away and wrapped his arms around him in a hug so tight it was almost painful, he knew his message had gotten across anyway.

_ I'm here for you. And I always will be. Even if you don't want me._

* * *

"He kissed him."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jim asked absently, erasing an entire paragraph of his English essay with one keystroke. "Goddammit, I hate writing."

"Kurt. Kissed Jeff," Blaine answered blankly, sinking to the floor as though he didn't even realize that he was nowhere near either chair or bed.

"_What _the _fuck_?" he repeated, spinning around in his swivel-chair so quickly that he almost slammed into the wall. "How do you even _know_ this?"

"I saw them. In the commons. Mistletoe."

"Blaine. Use your words. Make full sentences. I know you can do this."

Blaine let his head fall forward to rest on his knees, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to center himself. "You know how you walked ahead of me on the way back from dinner?" He didn't bother pausing to let Jim answer. "I was walking past the commons a couple of minutes ago, and I guess they were talking, but then all of a sudden, they looked up and realized it was there, and...Kurt kissed him."

"Like..._kissed _him, kissed him?"

"What does that even mean?" Blaine snapped, uncharacteristically harshly. "A kiss is a kiss."

"It means, did Kurt's lips contact _Jeff's _lips, or are you being melodramatic about some little peck on the cheek?"

Blaine blinked twice. "Uh..."

"Oh my God, you're such a..." Beyond frustrated, Jim chucked his English notebook at Blaine's head, rolling his eyes when the bemused boy just let it hit him, then fall uselessly to the ground. "For Christ's sake, you made it sound like Kurt's tongue was down his throat!"

Blaine went slightly green. "N-no, it wasn't like that. At all."

"So why's it such a tragedy?" As though he didn't know.

"I mean, it's not, I just...wasn't expecting it."

"You know you can't keep using that excuse, right? I mean, it's only effective so many times."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You said that about finding out that Jeff liked Kurt. And that Kurt had agreed to go out with him. And a lot of other things involving _oh hey go figure- -_Kurt. So maybe that should tell you something, huh?"

"No! I'm just...really protective of him."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. I just...I know what he went through, at his old school, and I'm just trying to make sure that he's okay here. That's _all. _It's like you are with Anna."

"That is a really fucked-up comparison for a lot of reasons. A) Anna is twelve. B) Anna is my sister. And C) you and Kurt spend every available Warbler rehearsal eye-sexing the hell out of each other, and therefore, it would be really gross if you were actually related."

"We do not- -I don't- -"

"Yes. You do."

"But..."

"You do. Ask anyone."

Blaine let his head fall back to hit the wall lightly. "Could you please let this go, Jim? _Please_?"

"Will you admit that you're, like, in love with him?"

"No! Because I'm _not!_"

"So your feelings for Kurt are one hundred percent platonic all the time?" He raised an eyebrow.

Blaine paused. "I. Um. Yes."

"That was so convincing, Blaine. Thank you _so much _for clearing that up for me."

"Friends can think other friends are attractive, talented, wonderful people _without _wanting to jump the person!"

"Can they? Can they _really?" _

"Oh my God, you are such a six-year-old."

"I'm right, though."

"Look, maybe I don't know!" Blaine exclaimed finally, throwing his hands up. "I told you this before. _I am not sure_ how I feel. And considering that Kurt _just _went on a date with another guy, I don't really think I should work too hard to try to figure it out."

Jim rolled his head back and stared, in utter befuddlement, at his ceiling. _I am not even going to _try _to follow this logic. _"Whatever. I at least think you should find out how the date went. Because all this freaking out about it might be completely unnecessary."

"I'm not used to you being the adult here. It's weirding me out. Please stop."

"I don't know, I kinda like it. It's fun. Makes me feel better about myself."

Blaine snorted. "You're so weird."

"Oh, shut up. You love me so much you can hardly even contain yourself." He beamed charmingly at his roommate and got to his feet. "I'm going out. I'll see you later."

"That was...abrupt."

_Yeah, well, I'm going to go grill Kurt about his date, because you're obviously not going to do it. And I so can't fucking deal with the unnecessary angst anymore. _"And this surprises you _why_, again?"

He laughed. "Guess it doesn't."

As it turned out, Jim didn't actually need to go looking for Kurt, because Kurt was conveniently barreling down the hallway in his general direction. "I left the door unlocked...?" he offered, and Kurt paused just long enough to give him a truly strange look and ask,

"What?"

"Oh. I just thought you might be looking for Blaine."

"You thought incorrectly." Kurt smiled, but there was something off about it that Jim couldn't quite place. "I'm actually not entirely sure why I was sprinting like that. Sorry if I freaked you out."

"You didn't," Jim answered, even though it was kind of a lie. "You okay?"

"Yup, totally fine, just...you know. Need to call Mercedes." Yeah, definitely something strange about the never-flickering grin that Kurt was wearing. It was almost as though he had pasted it there because he was afraid of what would happen if he revealed his true feelings.

_Shit, I've been watching _way _too many Lifetime movies. _

"How was your date?" he asked, intentionally ignoring the vibes emanating from Kurt's body, which clearly ordered him to mind his own fucking business and let him call his best friend in peace.

"It wasn't," Kurt answered plainly, pushing his bangs away from his face. "I'm sorry, Jim, I'm not trying to be rude, but I _really _have to go." He hurried away before Jim could figure out how he should be responding to this, and once he had shut himself away safely in his (mercifully empty) room, he closed his eyes and sank back against the door. He'd been unnecessarily curt back there, and he knew it, but he was...exhausted, and overwhelmed, and Jim's well-meaning but tactless queries just happened to come at a really bad time.

_Call me when you get a second, Cedes, I really want to talk to you._

The phone call came exactly five seconds after the text had been sent. "What's wrong, honey?"she asked immediately, without even bothering to give him the chance to say hello.

"I just came back from the...thing. The Jeff thing."

"How was it?"

"It was...fine. But it wasn't- -I couldn't let him- -I didn't want to lead him on anymore," he burst out finally, burying his face in his hands. "I just, he's so sweet, and his face actually _lights up _when he sees me, and I never thought I'd have that. And I went because I was thinking, maybe there was a chance, you know? I wanted to be fair, and at least give him a chance. And I was hoping _so much- -_but..."

"But he's not Blaine," she supplied, clucking her tongue sympathetically. "Oh, baby, that must have been so hard for you."

"It was!" Kurt exclaimed, and he couldn't deny that he was relieved. He loved Mercedes to bits, and he knew her better than to think she'd have been anything other than supportive, but he hadn't been able to shake the fear that she'd think he was being silly. If you'd asked him a few months ago, he'd have told you, with unequivocal certainty, that a date with a cute, genuinely kind boy was never, _ever _a cause for anything other than mind-blowing joy.

But things change.

"Does that sound ridiculous?"

"No, no, no! Of course not! I respect the _hell _out of you for giving him a chance, and even more for doing the right thing and telling him the truth."

He smiled slightly, despite himself. "Thanks, Cedes."

"Of course," she answered immediately. "Do you want to tell me about it, or no?"

"Not...I mean..." he heaved a heavy sigh. "I want to, but it just makes me feel so bad. He tried so hard to look like he wanted to be supportive, but I could tell I really hurt him." Another groan/sigh/thing.

"What'd you guys talk about?"

"Just stuff. Glee. School. What we like. He actually listened to me ramble about shopping for a while, because his shirt- -oh! He talked a lot about his best friend. Like...a _lot. _So I'm kind of wondering if maybe it's actually Nick he likes, but he doesn't realize it yet."

"That'd make your life so much easier," Mercedes marveled, and he nodded fervently even though she couldn't see him.

"I actually _really _hope that's how it ends up. I really do want him to be happy."

"I know you do, honey." She sighed. "It's gonna be okay. Everything'll work out."

"Thanks," he muttered. "Ugh. Can we change the subject? Can we talk about your life now?"

She laughed. "Well, I _do _have to catch you up on the latest Rachel Berry drama..."

* * *

When Jim burst through the door a few hours later, he may have been just a little, tiny bit tipsy. (Well, he'd had to come up with _somewhere _to go, or Blaine would do that annoying thing where he was actually observant, and figured out what Jim's methods had really been. And anyway, _tiny _buzz. Like, barely even worth _noting_. Really.) "It wasn't a date!" he crowed, the door ricocheting off the wall as he bounded inside.

Blaine looked calmly up from his laptop and lifted an eyebrow. "I quite literally have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"The Kurt and Jeff thing! He told me!"

"You're, like, screaming. Inside voices," Blaine replied easily, even though his heart had given a strange flop at his roommate's words. "Unless, of course, you _intend _on telling the entire school this?"

"Oh, lighten up," he scoffed, flopping over onto his bed and narrowly missing smashing his head against the wall. "Seriously, though. I was like, 'hey Kurt, how was your date?' and you know what he said to me? _It wasn't. _He said it wasn't a date!"

"I...I actually got that, but thanks for reiterating. Did he seem...okay?" _That _was why his heart was racing like that. He was just worried that Kurt hadn't handled it well.

No. Really.

Seriously.

"I guess. He didn't talk to _me _about it. He wanted to go make a phone call. But seeee? Y'didn't have to freak out about that mistletoe thing 'coz it wasn't real! I tooooold you."

"Do you think I should go check on him?" He knew he had made a very bad life choice once he stopped speaking. And sure enough...

"_I _think you should go stick your tongue down his throat and put you both out of your misery, but you're not going to listen to me, so whatever."

"And _I _think it's kind of hilarious that you're trying to give me romance advice while you can barely even speak, so I guess we're even, huh?" With that, knowing that there was no way to win, once Jim got in these moods, Blaine just rolled his eyes and returned to his work.

* * *

He meant to talk to Kurt about the Jeff thing. He really did. Unfortunately, he had neglected to recall that December, on top of holidays and other such joyful experiences, also included midterms. Or, well, more accurately, he forgot that Kurt wasn't used to Dalton's way of doing midterms, and that the other boy was still fairly new to the school. So when Kurt took to not appearing for meals, and vanishing right after Warblers rehearsal every day, he began to worry.

And when he realized it had been a week since they'd last gotten the chance to have an actual conversation that didn't revolve around some variation of "Is that really all you're eating?" or "Can I borrow your history notes?", he decided to take matters into his own hands. It was fairly late when he went to Kurt's room, and he could see the thin beam of yellow light spilling through the crack under the door that was a sure sign of someone inside. Relieved, he knocked. "Kurt? Are you in here?" No response. He waited a moment, and then knocked again, starting to feel a strange combination of foolish and panicked. He was about to give up when the door swung open, but it wasn't Kurt who greeted him.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Paul asked, straightening his rumpled t-shirt and grinning.

"Not much." He smiled, even as he tugged at his blazer in an unconscious nervous habit. He had, quite obviously, interrupted something, and now he felt like a total idiot for insistently hammering on the door. "Uh...sorry. Never mind, I didn't mean to- -"

"Don't even worry about it," Paul replied easily, running his hand through his insanely tousled hair. "Kurt's in the library, if your looking for him. I think he has a term paper or something." He glanced over his shoulder quickly and then added, in a very low voice. "Can you make sure he's okay? I don't think he's been sleeping that much."

Blaine's heart seized. "Of course. Thanks." And with a small smile, he hurried away.

Kurt, as promised, was in the small alcove closest to the windows, absolutely surrounded by books and typing feverishly on his laptop. His hair was sticking up in a thousand different directions, and he kept flipping pages in such a frenzied fashion that Blaine couldn't help but be surprised that they didn't rip.

When the frantic typing halted, he cleared his throat slightly, and Kurt's head snapped up. "Oh my God, _Blaine_," he breathed, going limp. "You scared the hell out of me."

Grimacing apologetically, he moved closer. "I'm sorry. What's all this?"

"Term paper. For _English, _of all things." He groaned. "I swear, Professor Winchester is trying to kill me. He knows that I haven't had enough time to read all the stuff he's done since the beginning of the year, which he told me was totally fine. So then today I double-checked my topic with him, and, of course, he informed me that it wasn't _detailed _enough. That I needed more sources so that I could 'create a more logical thesis.' So now I need to find the time to read these stupid books, come up with a new topic, and write an entire paper by the end of the week." The _and there are only two weeks left until Christmas oh my God I need to go shopping _went unsaid, but there was no use denying it to himself.

_Just in time for finals to actually start, _Blaine realized, sympathy washing over him; carefully shifting a few of the books, he sat down. "Do you want help?"

Kurt blinked, and Blaine couldn't help but notice the faint dark circles under his eyes. "I'd love that, but what can you do, really? I have to _read things._ Pretty sure you can't do that for me."

"No," he agreed, shrugging out of his blazer. "But I _can_ help you with the rest of your assignments. The ones that are due sooner."

"That would be...amazing." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I can't do this right now, anyway. I've been reading since rehearsal."

He checked his watch reflexively, even though he knew what it would tell him. And sure enough, Kurt had been there for _hours_. "Did you work on any of the rest of this?" he asked, freeing a math worksheet from the pile. Kurt's eyes widened.

"Um, no, because I was panicking too much about this English thing to remember that I have other obligations."

He'd have laughed, if Kurt didn't look so completely miserable. "It's okay. We'll get this done in no time. Just read your stuff and don't freak out okay?"

"But what- -"

"Trust me?"

"...of course."

"Then shush and do your work," he teased, bumping Kurt's shoulder gently. When Kurt had finally returned to whatever he was reading, Blaine settled down with Kurt's calculator and set to work. (Ordinarily, he didn't make it a habit to do other people's work for them, but he'd done homework with Kurt enough times to know that his best friend really _did _understand the material. It was just exhaustion and lack of time keeping him from getting it done.) And Kurt was so immersed in his reading again that he didn't even bother questioning what Blaine was doing. If he'd known, he'd have tried to stop him, but as it was, he didn't have the energy to multitask enough to do so.

By the time Kurt's typing began to slow again, Blaine had managed to covertly finish everything he'd written in his planner, and he fanned himself with the sheaf of papers coyly as he waited for Kurt to save his work and realize what he'd done. The countertenor yawned widely as he slammed the lid of his laptop down with more than a little anger and let out a weary little groan as he turned to face Blaine. "So what were you- -what. Is. That."

"This would be your stuff," Blaine answered, trying and epically failing to hide his pleased grin. "Told you you wouldn't have to worry, though I can't promise that it's perfect. So I'm sorry if- -"

He was interrupted when Kurt flung himself into his arms so fiercely that he very nearly knocked the chair backwards. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Oh my God, you just _saved my life. _I owe you _huge._"

Blaine's eyes widened, a slightly bemused laugh escaping him as he returned the hug eagerly. "It's no big deal, I really didn't mind."

Kurt pulled back and stared at him, suddenly seeming alarm. "...oh my _God_, I just tackled you. I am so sorry."

He laughed and pulled Kurt close again. "Don't even worry about it. I completely understand."

"Seriously, though, if you need anything _ever again_, just come to me. Because what you just did is, like." He flailed slightly. "I can't even."

"You know what you can do for me?" Blaine disentangled himself gently and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Come get some food."

"It's so late," Kurt objected. "The cafeteria isn't even open."

"Have you _met _my friends, Kurt? Anytime we get close to anything even remotely stressful, I end up with a convenience store of food in my room, because they're convinced that I'm going to go anorexic on them or something."

Ordinarily, Kurt would have objected, because _hello_, if he ate at this hour, what was stopping it from going directly to his hips? Nothing. But he was kind of hungry, having forgotten about dinner entirely, and he didn't really want to say goodnight just yet anyway.

(He may or may not have ended up falling asleep curled up in the corner of Blaine's bed an hour or so later as Blaine read over the scraps of his new essay and typed commentary in the margins. _And then maybe he woke up as the sun started to rise covered in a blanket that he _definitely _didn't remember wrapping himself in, right next to a peacefully slumbering Blaine._)

* * *

"You're driving me fucking insane," Jim complained a few days later, pushing his bangs away from his face. "Seriously. Blaine. There is so much sexual tension. I can't handle it."

"What do you propose I _do _then, Jim?" He sighed, having realized the futility of trying to argue that there was not, in fact, any sexual tension by this point. "Look, I'm perfectly fine just being friends with him. Because the absolute last thing I want to do is push him into something that he's not ready for."

"...right." He made a face. "Damn you and your dapperness, Anderson. Can you not be selfish just _once_?"

"Not about him," Blaine mumbled, kicking at the ground. "I'm not going to risk throwing away a friendship based on the tiny chance that there might be something between us. The way I see it, whatever's supposed to happen is going to happen. I mean...for all I know, I'll go out one day and meet some guy at a coffee shop, and then I'll just _know_."

"Or _maybe _one day, you and Kurt will stop tiptoeing around each other, make out for an hour or two, and then I'll never have to listen to Katy Perry ever again."

"...ignoring how ridiculous the majority of that just was..." He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I guess it's possible that something could happen between us one day. But only if he's absolutely positive that's what he wants."

"Oh my God, I'm actually making progress. Thank you, sweet baby _Jesus_," Jim intoned, flopping over to stare at the ceiling.

Blaine snorted, but just as he was about to reply, his phone rang. "H'llo?"

"Blaine, it's Dad. I have some news."

He sat bolt upright immediately. There was a small smile in his father's voice, but panic rose in his chest at the words even so. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine!" He laughed softly. "I got you a gig."

"Wait, _what_?"

"I mean, you'll have to come home next weekend to do it, but do you mind that terribly?"

Blaine blinked rapidly, attempting to make sense of what was even happening. "I...no. Of course not. But I _will _have to get back fairly early, because our last week before Christmas break is when midterms are."

"Well, that's no problem at all, of course," the older man replied airily. "You'll be singing 'Baby It's Cold Outside' at King's Island. You know, in case you want to practice."

"'Baby It's Cold Outside?'" Blaine repeated, raising an eyebrow. "They asked for that?"

He hesitated. "Well...actually, they were just looking for more acts. But _everyone's _doing solos, and there was a rather lovely girl I happened to run into who said she wanted to sing, but was too shy to do so by herself."

"So you volunteered me?" Blaine asked, fingers curling into a fist as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Of course I did. You love to sing, and I was _sure _you'd have helped her out if you'd seen her." There was a warning in his voice that no one outside of the immediate family would ever be able to detect; Blaine's teeth came together with an audible click.

"I'm absolutely certain you're right," he replied tightly. "I should go, then. Better start to practice."

"Fantastic. I'll see you next weekend, Blaine."

"See you next weekend, Dad."

Jim looked up cautiously the moment Blaine hung up the phone. "Why do you look like you want to commit homicide?"

"My dad," he gritted out, "is doing it _again_."

"Doing...?"

"He's volunteered me to sing 'Baby It's Cold Outside' next weekend at King's Island. And he was _so obvious _about the fact that he'd chosen it _specifically _because it was going to require me to sing with a girl."

"Did he actually say- -"

"Of course he didn't, because that's not how he handles things. But he couldn't have made it much clearer without actually spelling it out."

"Wait." Jim's face lit up. "This is perfect!"

"What are you _taking_, and can I have some?" He made a face, rolling his head back to crack his neck.

"No, seriously! You have to practice, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why don't you run it with Kurt?"

"...what?"

"He's got all the notes, and then you can kind of see what happens between you, you know? Plus, it's better than sitting here alone, trying to sing both parts, because that is just _sad. _And we really don't have anyone else who'd be able to help you."

"Because that would be leading him on, Jim. I am his _friend_. How much more clear can I be?"

"Cocky of you."

"_What_?"

He smirked. "For you to be leading him on, he'd have to be into you. You _totally _just assumed that was true."

Blaine went bright red. "I- -that's not- -I just don't want to make him uncomfortable!"

"That's not what you said," Jim sing-songed delightedly, and Blaine shot him a withering glare.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Even Jim knew when to stop pushing, and he gave in with a sigh. "Whatever. It's just singing. There's nothing wrong with asking him to practice with you."

Blaine didn't reply, but he couldn't quite manage to shake the idea for the rest of the night, either.

* * *

Kurt was seriously contemplating concussing himself with his European History textbook when something clattered loudly nearby, making him jump so much that he almost fell off his chair. "Hey," Blaine greeted him happily, readjusting the portable stereo that he'd apparently brought with him.

"You scared me," he confessed, smiling even so. _Which is apparently becoming routine_, _not that I'm complaining._

"Well, good," Blaine replied playfully, "because I'm actually Marley's ghost. And I am here…to tell you…to stop studying so hard." He crossed the room and flopped dramatically into the chair across from Kurt, still beaming for no apparent reason.

Kurt just lifted an amused eyebrow. "What's with the boombox?"

_Well, here goes nothing. _"I need you to sing with me," he admitted, and when Kurt's eyebrows inched higher, he edited. "Well, rehearse with me. I got a gig singing 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' for the King's Island Christmas Spectacular." His lame attempt at jazz hands made Kurt smile, and he relaxed.

"Ah, a personal favorite," Kurt managed, even though all the while, he felt like his heart was going to explode, and then he was going to die. Like, quite literally _die_. Was this actually happening? There was no possible way that Blaine Anderson was standing in front of him right now, grinning in a ridiculously adorable, goofy manner, asking him to sing what was probably his favorite Christmas song of all time. _No. Way_. Because things like that, flirty, spur-of-the-moment duets...they didn't just _happen _in real life. Not for him, at least. _Except apparently now they do. _"Too bad they'd never let us sing it together." Blaine's brow furrowed slightly, and though his grin didn't fade, Kurt flushed. "I- -I mean as two artists..." _Shut up now before you ruin it completely._

Blaine didn't seem bothered by the depths of his complete idiocy, though. Instead, he just looked at him for a moment- -really _looked _at him, as though he was trying to see into the very depths of Kurt's soul. "So. You going to help me out here?"

Kurt's pencil fell to the table with a quiet clatter. "Anything to get me to stop reading about Charlemagne."

"Very good," he answered, smirking and flipping the book shut. Then, completely casually, he wandered over to the little stereo and pressed play. The music started, bright and cheery, and he gestured extravagantly at Kurt as he half-sauntered, half-shuffled back over. Kurt smirked right back, glancing at the ceiling in a playfully flirtatious manner. (_Because dammit, he was going to make the most of this._) "I've got to go way."

"But baby, it's cold outside," Blaine protested, shivering slightly to illustrate his point.

"This evening has been- -"

"Been hoping that you'd drop by."

"- -so very nice," Kurt continued, holding the other boy's gaze in a silent, teasing challenge.

He took it, moving closer. "I'll take your hands, they're just like ice." Kurt's breath caught, even though they'd held hands a thousand times, the nearer Blaine's hands got to his own; but the other boy pulled away at the absolute last second, looking rather pleased with himself.

Refusing to be outdone, Kurt got up and sauntered away, clasping his hands together behind his back in a position of faux worry (making sure, of course, to brush against Blaine just slightly as he passed). "My mother will start to worry."

"Beautiful, what's your hurry?" Blaine pressed, extending his own hands in a silent invitation.

He wanted nothing more than to take them in his own, but instead, he prowled along the edge of the carpet, shooting Blaine a coy look from under his lashes. "My father will be pacing the floor."

"Listen to the fireplace roar," Blaine offered, voice low and smooth as he followed several paces behind.

"So really I'd better scurry."

He looked so _alive _like this. So vibrant. Blaine couldn't help but marvel, wishing that he'd sung with Kurt before this even as he pressed his hands together in silent prayer. "Beautiful, please don't hurry."

"Well, maybe just half a drink more," Kurt relented, backing toward him.

Blaine shoulder-checked him mischievously and circled around him. "Put some records on while I pour."

"The neighbors might think..." Kurt lifted an eyebrow playfully as he breezed past Blaine, who fixed him with a concerned stare.

"Baby, it's bad out there."

"Say, what's in this drink?" he asked exasperatedly, perching on the back of the couch.

"No cabs to be had out there," Blaine continued, leaning casually against the table across from Kurt.

"I wish I knew how to break this spell," he sighed in response, even though by this point, he didn't think he would even if he could.

"Your eyes are like starlight now," Blaine replied, holding his hands out in an adorably dorky 'picture frame.' And, as Kurt spun around to the other side of the couch, with a slight undertone of triumph, he continued, "I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell."

"I oughta say no, no, no sir," Kurt teased, so flirtatiously that Blaine's breath actually caught for a moment. _This _was a side of Kurt he hadn't seen much of, and he'd have been lying if he'd tried to pretend he didn't _really _like it.

"Mind if I move in closer?" he asked, scooting over to Kurt's side of the couch, so close that their bodies were fully pressed together.

"At least I'm gonna say that I tried," Kurt gave in, smiling more widely than Blaine had seen him do in weeks.

"What's the sense in hurting my pride?" he agreed, leaning even closer and beaming up at Kurt.

"I really can't stay." Kurt got up abruptly, amused by the coquettish nature of his part, and Blaine leaned on the couch as he sang a flirty rebuke.

"Baby, don't hold out."

"Oh, but it's cold outside," they sang, as Kurt settled on the piano bench a little ways away. Blaine pursued, bumping him lightly as he reached out to play along with the track.

"I've got to get home," Kurt insisted, hurrying toward the fireplace, and Blaine sprang after him, very nearly catching him in his arms.

"But baby, you'd freeze out there."

"Say, lend me a coat."

"It's up to your knees out there." He was a foot or so away, and Kurt couldn't help but be sorely tempted to close the distance.

"You've really been grand..." he sang instead, breezing past Blaine yet again.

"I thrill when you touch my hand," Blaine admitted, and Kurt was absolutely _certain_ that, when he glanced back over at his friend, that you couldn't fake the earnestness in his expression. You just _couldn't_, and that was enough to make his heart forget what its job was for a second.

"...but don't you see?" he continued, pouting as he leaned heavily on the back of the couch.

"How can you do this thing to me?" Blaine bemoaned, bending his knees slightly in the very picture of desperation, before gracing Kurt with a pout of his own as he strolled forward again.

"There's bound to be talk tomorrow," Kurt reminded him, far too teasingly to be taken even remotely seriously, and Blaine unleashed the full power of his puppy-dog expression with his next line.

"Think of my lifelong sorrow..."

"At least there will be plenty implied." Kurt finished, trying and failing to suppress his grin.

"...if you got pneumonia and died." Blaine knelt down so that his face was level with Kurt's, and _ohmygodsoclose _that Kurt could have reached out and smoothed away the cute little crease between Blaine's eyebrows (which, speaking of, was he hallucinating, or was Blaine staring at his lips). He couldn't even _think _about any of that without spontaneously combusting, he was sure of it. So he spun away, out of temptation's reach.

"I really can't stay..."

"Get over that hold out," Blaine urged, gesturing toward the couch with utterly ridiculous flourish. He smirked and half shook his head, and Blaine, holding his gaze intently, repeated the gesture.

He relented, and joined Blaine for the final line: "Oh, but it's cold outside," before they both fell gracefully onto the couch, Kurt crossing his legs with a flair that only he could really pull off. He caught Blaine's eye on the very last note, heart speeding up as he realized that Blaine was smiling enormously as he sang, leaning so close to Kurt that he was nearly on top of him. He beamed right back, reveling in the innocent intimacy of the moment; and after a few beats of just staring at each other, they both seemed to realize what they were doing and laughed uncertainly.

"I think you're ready," Kurt announced, smiling again.

_Do you want to sing it with me instead of her? Because I would love that. _"Well, for the record," he began, struggling slightly to get off the couch, "you are _much _better than that girl is going to be." _I don't even care who she is. She could be world renowned, and she won't even be able to _touch _you._

The intensity of his own thoughts was slightly disconcerting, and he got to his feet quickly, hoping that if he hurried, he'd be able to have the room to himself, to try to figure out what all this meant with minimal interruption.

Kurt sagged back against the posh cushions, barely suppressing a disappointed sigh. _What did you expect to happen_? he berated himself. _It's not like he'd be the type to stick his tongue down your throat. _Before he could get much further than that, though, he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up with his heart in his throat.

"...Mr. Schuester," he managed, none too eloquently, as he got to his feet with sudden energy.

"Good to see you, Kurt," his former glee club director greeted him warmly, opening his arms and wrapping Kurt in a tight embrace. Kurt smiled despite himself; he and Mr. Shue had certainly had their differences in the past, but God, it was good to see him now. There was an almost paternal gleam in the teacher's eye as he released Kurt and gazed at him, as though attempting to compare the state of Kurt's past and current well-being with a single glance. "Someone special?" he added, with a knowing smile and a quick nod in the direction that Blaine had disappeared.

"No, just a friend," Kurt replied, more than a little ruefully. _A friend who apparently sings ridiculously flirty duets with me now. _He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet with the reminder, and grinned a little. "But on the upside, I'm in love with him and he's actually gay. I call that progress." It probably should have been awkward, admitting that to Shue of all people, but for some reason, it was just kind of nice.

Mr. Shue's smile was tinged with the barest hint of sadness as he reached out to put his hand gently on Kurt's arm. "How are you doing?" He recognized the tone as, _but how are you doing _really, _not just what you think I want to hear_, and knew that he wouldn't have been able to lie anyway.

"Classes are harder, but the kids are kinder," he confessed. "But I miss you guys a lot." And speaking of that, as cool as this was... "So what brings you here? Are you looking into teaching at a place where pencils aren't primarily used as weapons?"

Mr. Shue dropped his head, grinning despite himself at Kurt's characteristic sassiness. "Actually, I need some holiday help. I don't know if you know this, but I'm really bad at Christmas shopping."

Kurt's inner diva kicked in immediately, and he queried, "How bad are we talking?" Is this like an 'I don't know what size to get' sort of bad, or an 'I don't know what to get you so here's a gift card' kind of bad?"

"Last Christmas I gave my wife a set of jumper cables."

_Oh, God. This is not good. "_Ooh," he managed, trying not to shudder too obviously.

But Mr. Shue seemed to realize that this was pretty awful, because he made a face and groaned, "Pretty bad, huh?" He fiddled, almost nervously, with something random that he'd found on the table. "This year I drew Sue in the office pool secret Santa, and I gotta tell you…I can't think of anything good."

Kurt winced, glancing down as he wracked his brain. Sue had absolutely everything she'd ever indicated wanting, but despite her rather formidable personality, Kurt couldn't help but hope that he'd be able to help come up with something that- - "I have the perfect idea," he announced suddenly, accidentally cutting off something that Shue had been saying.

"Really?" he brightened.

Kurt's brain was working a thousand miles a second, which meant that he really wasn't paying that much attention to the words that were coming out of his mouth. The next thing he knew, Mr. Shue was offering to take him shopping and out to dinner, and he was accepting. (_Was this day even real right now?_)

Conversation flowed surprisingly easily between them, and Kurt was astonished to find himself really enjoying Mr. Shue's company. And then, when he entered the store, he saw it. The absolutely _perfect _gift for Blaine. He pointed Mr. Schuester in the right direction hastily and beelined toward it: the most gorgeous, gray-green cashmere sweater he had ever seen. _It will bring out his eyes to perfection_, he thought dreamily as he rifled through the rack looking for his friend's size. To his utter delight, he discovered that there was only one remaining in the correct size; and even better, it was on sale. (Which, of course, was important, considering that there was no way in hell he'd have been able to afford it otherwise.) He hung it carefully over his arm, marveling silently at his luck- -he'd been in here just last week buying gifts for New Directions, but these must have arrived within the past couple of days- -and hurried off to go find Mr. Shue.

**OH HAI THUR ABRUPT ENDING.**


	10. In Which There Is Awesomeness

**IT'S AN EFFING MONSTER-CHAPTER, YOU GUYS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW.**

**Also, the season finale of Glee comes on in 38 minutes. And I'm proud of myself, because it was my goal to get it up before said finale. *dances***

**Quick note: I'm going to follow canon all the way up through the end of the season (probably. If I mess with it, there won't be major changes), but then, if y'all are still interested, I'm going to do my own version of season 3. It'll be one of my summer projects! (Provided I FINISH THIS FIRST, dammit.)**

**Enjoy!**

"I did it."

Jim's head snapped up. "You better not be fucking with me about this."

Blaine blinked. "What?"

"Did what?" he demanded. "Because I'm almost positive we're not talking about the same thing right now."

"I took your advice. I rehearsed with Kurt."

"I'd say something along the lines of, 'Oh, _that's _what we're calling it these days?', if I wasn't sure you were actually telling the truth." He heaved a despairing sigh and tossed his physics book carelessly over his shoulder, turning his full attention to the matter at hand. "And?"

Blaine crossed the room on slightly shaky legs and sank down on the edge of his bed. "And it was...amazing. _He _is _incredible._"

"Maybe we _are _talking about the same thing," Jim smirked. "In the commons, Blaine? How undapper of you."

"The song," Blaine clarified, shooting Jim a dirty look. "The _song _was amazing."

"Apparently. He's reduced your IQ so much that it's almost impossible to have a conversation with you."

"I hate you."

"So you've mentioned." He yawned exaggeratedly. "Let me guess. You stood twenty feet away at all times and undressed each other with your eyes without bothering to get close enough to actually do anything about it?"

Blaine opened his mouth to make a snippy comment, but his brain was otherwise engaged, as memories of Kurt's coy smiles and playful teasing assaulted him. "You- -no," he managed instead. "No, we didn't."

"Ooh, didn'tyou? So what _did _you do? I'm intrigued."

"We- -we just..." _flirted. A lot. And I didn't stop him, because it was really hot. _

Wait. No.

Not okay.

"Did you tell him his lips looked delicious_?_" Jim lowered his voice to what was apparently supposed to be a seductive growl, but actually came out really creepy. "Actually, no, scratch that. _Did _his lips look delicious?"

_Yes_. "N-what?"

"Oh, please, I know you looked. You were in fucking mistletoe wonderland. How could you not?" His eyes lit up. "Oh my God, did you kiss him?"

"Jim!" Blaine exploded, burying his ridiculously flushed face into his pillow. "Seriously?"

"Of course you didn't, what the hell am I talking about? You wouldn't even be functional right now if you had. Goddamn, I was so excited, too..."

"I absolutely _hate _you."

"_Ooh, your lips _are _delicious_," Jim crooned in response, and cackled hysterically even as Blaine's other pillow suddenly flew across the room and smacked him in the face.

"Must you torment me so mercilessly?"

"Technically, no, but it's a hell of a lot more interesting than anything else I could be doing," Jim admitted, smirking. "You order the monogrammed linens yet? As his Christmas present, maybe?"

"You do not amuse me."

He fluttered his lashes exaggeratedly. "I'm hilarious, don't lie."

"Whatever."

"No, but seriously, are you getting him a Christmas present?"

Blaine sat up so quickly he gave himself a head rush. "Oh my God, Christmas."

"...yes. Please don't tell me you forgot about Christmas."

"I didn't, but..." His eyes widened. "What do I even _get _him?"

"So many jokes could be made in this moment. It's just not worth it to try to choose one." Jim sighed loudly. "I swear, Anderson, you are hopeless. Just think about what he likes."

Blaine pondered for about thirty seconds before it occurred to him. He was on his laptop in a moment.

* * *

"Come to King's Island with me." It was a few days later, and they were sharing the same couch they'd sung on, attempting to study, when the words slipped unbidden from Blaine's lips.

The book slipped off Kurt's lap and thudded loudly to the ground. "Wh-what?"

Heat pooled in Blaine's cheeks immediately. _Jesus, Anderson. Presumptuous, much? _But he couldn't bear to take it back now, and Kurt was staring at him, face completely inscrutable. He'd have to play it up. "Please?" He batted his lashes playfully. "It will be so much less painful if I have friends with me."

"What about Wes and David?" Kurt queried uncertainly, his heart racing. If it was just going to be him and Blaine, did that mean- -

"What about us?"

"Ah...are you going to Blaine's King's Island gig?" How they had the innate ability to appear- -_together, _no less- -completely out of nowhere any time they were mentioned was still way beyond him.

They exchanged a loaded look. "Can't. Sorry, Blainey," Wes replied, bouncing over to pat him on the head. "I have to go to a thing."

"What _thing_?" Blaine asked suspiciously, swatting him away.

"Uh...family thing!" he improvised wildly. "For my sister!"

David nodded wisely. "I've already promised to go with him. You know how much she loves me. It's my Christmas present to her."

Wes jabbed him hard in the ribs. "Oi. Still my sister."

"Oh, whatever, you get my point."

"Okay, true," he conceded, rolling his eyes. "Dunno what the hell she sees in you."

"Either way, sorry, Blaine! Looks like it's just you and Kurt," David finished with an innocent smile. "But yeah, we have to go now, so bye!" And, with absolutely no ado whatsoever, he grabbed Wes's hand and towed him away.

"I think they've finally lost it," Blaine marveled, shaking his head. "I think the stress has finally gotten to them, and they just snapped."

"What, just now? Please. They were goners long ago." He smiled slightly. "Look, Blaine, I...I'd really love to come see you sing, but I've got so much work..."_ and it might feel too much like a date, and I might not be able to handle that._

"Oh, come on. You work too hard. You've earned a break," Blaine pressed hopefully, and Kurt toyed with a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve. "I'll can help you study. I have a system and everything."

And Kurt still hadn't quite mastered the art of Blaine + the word "no" = a possible response, so he nodded.

Which was how he found himself in Blaine's car way too early on Saturday morning, nursing a latte, with his feet surrounded by books. Blaine himself looked uncharacteristically ruffled- -in fact, Kurt was pretty sure his shirt wasn't buttoned correctly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yep. Fine." Except that he was drumming frenetically on the steering wheel, which, y'know, was just _so _convincing.

"Blaine, are you nervous?"

"No." Braking at a red light, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I'm sorry I'm so...off today. I'm just...you know how I left practice early yesterday to go rehearse with this girl?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Apparently when my dad told her I'd sing with her, he managed to make her believe that a duet translated to a date."

Kurt made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, God, that's awful. What'd you do?"

"Explained that while she was a lovely girl, I'm not actually into double-x chromosomes." He shook his head, smiling a little at Kurt's snort. "She took it fine, but it's kinda going to make today awkward."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Kurt murmured, wincing. "Don't let it stress you out, okay? You're so ready for this. You're _fantastic_, Blaine. And if you have to...just pretend it's not her you're singing to." It was a risky thing to say, for him, and his breath caught at his own recklessness. But either Blaine didn't notice the hidden meaning, or he _really, really _did, because he answered without thinking.

"God, I wish I could just sing it with you."

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. _

Breathing. Breathing was good. Breathing meant life.

He just had to remember how to do it.

When he had finally regained his motor functions, Kurt inhaled tremulously and managed to reply, "Yeah, me too."

Blaine caught his eye in the rearview mirror and smiled so widely that Kurt's heart spluttered. "Maybe one day."

His call was early, obviously. Much earlier than anyone else would bother showing up, unless, of course, they happened to be Kurt Hummel. "Blaine, wait," he blurted out before his friend could disappear into the wings, leaving him to choose a seat and wait around with no one but his books for company.

"What's up?"

"Your shirt's buttoned up wrong," he pointed out, and apparently he'd gone completely insane, because the next thing he knew, he was _fixing it_. His hands ghosted lightly over the fabric as he carefully undid the top few buttons and fastened them properly, hoping to God that Blaine couldn't feel his fingers trembling.

As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about Blaine noticing anything amiss, because Blaine was actually a little busy trying to remember what oxygen was. He was so aware, almost _too _aware of every touch, every time Kurt accidentally skimmed his skin. And then all of a sudden, the countertenor was backing up (_why? Too much space, why was there so much space between them now?_) with an uncertain smile. "There. Now you're perfect."

And then Blaine was hugging him tightly, face kind of buried in Kurt's shoulder, and he probably wouldn't even have remembered that he had a performance to do if someone hadn't called, "Hey, Blaine?"

"Break a leg," Kurt managed breathlessly, and Blaine graced him with another brilliant smile.

"Thanks. For everything."

And then he disappeared.

'Baby, It's Cold Outside' was right in the middle of the program. The house wasn't quite full, and Kurt had managed to stake out a seat a little away from the masses (luck, he guessed, considering he'd been there first); he leaned forward eagerly as Blaine and a pretty blonde came onstage.

He was good- -great, even. But still, Kurt couldn't help but notice that there was something...different about this performance. And it wasn't just that the girl was decidedly less fabulous than he, he thought, allowing himself the briefest moment of smug triumph. There was something different about _Blaine. _He couldn't quite pinpoint it, or maybe he couldn't let himself put a name to it, but he felt like, just maybe, Blaine had done better singing with Kurt.

Still, when the performance was over and Blaine bounded out into the audience to look for him, he wrapped his friend in another tight hug and exclaimed, "You were fantastic! See, I told you you'd be fine!"

And Blaine just laughed, still kind of high on post-performance adrenaline, thanked him, and whispered, "I liked singing with you better."

* * *

Kurt had absolutely no idea how he survived finals week. He suspected, having not actually tested this theory, that were he to get injured in some sort of weird, school supplies related incident, he'd bleed coffee. There was no doubt in his mind that he hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep any night this week, and that was _with _the help of Blaine, Paul, Wes and David. He shook his head bemusedly and continued packing. At least at home, he'd be able to rest...

He may or may not have been slightly zoned in front of his suitcase when there was a gentle rap on the door, and Kurt turned, slightly startled. "Blaine! Only you would knock when the door is propped open," he teased lightly, laying the sweater he'd been holding in his suitcase and crossing the room to pull his friend inside. "What's up?"

"Actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wanted to give you your Christmas present before you left for home."

"Oh, fantastic, I have something for you, too!"

"You do?" Looking pleased, Blaine walked the rest of the way into the room and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "You didn't have to do that."

"Neither did you," he pointed out, smirking and digging through his closet for the craftily wrapped box.

Blaine grinned. "Actually, I kinda did. You'll understand when you see what it is." And, as Kurt finally re-emerged with his gift, he fanned himself playfully with the small envelope. "You know what they say...sometimes good things come in small packages."

"Like you?" Kurt suggested with a saucy wink, and Blaine's jaw literally fell open.

"Guh," he replied eloquently, and Kurt snorted.

"Here. Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas, Kurt," he replied, taking the box from his friend and replacing it with the envelope. Keen to make sure that Blaine truly liked his gift, Kurt carefully set it off to the side and watched excitedly as the other boy dug into the wrapping paper. "Oh, _wow," _he breathed as he unearthed the sweater. "This is so nice."

"Really?" he asked hopefully. "If you don't like it, it's really okay. I just saw it and thought maybe- -"

"No, no, I _love _it," he marveled, running his hand over the luxurious fabric. "Kurt, my God. You didn't have to do that!"

"It just made me think of you. I thought it might bring out your eyes," Kurt admitted, smiling. "It just makes me really happy that you like it."

"It's beautiful," Blaine reiterated. "I mean, I knew you had legendary fashion sense from the few times that I actually got to see you in street clothes...also, facebook. But _wow." _He grinned brightly. "Thank you so much. Now open yours, silly!"

Inside the envelope were two small pieces of paper. Kurt's brow furrowed as he removed them, and Blaine held his breath, eagerly awaiting his reaction. And he certainly wasn't disappointed; Kurt actually let out a shriek and fell back onto his bed. "Oh my _God_, Blaine. What the hell did you do?"

"Do you like them?" he asked, not even attempting to squash his huge grin.

"You did _not _buy me Lady Gaga tickets. _You did not_," he gasped, still staring at them as though he expected them to disappear at any given moment.

"I did, actually," he replied gleefully, and Kurt quite literally launched himself off the bed and into Blaine's arms.

"Ohmygodyouaresoamazing," he rambled delightedly. "Thank you so, so much!" Blaine laughed.

"I couldn't _not _get them. I saw them and I knew they were perfect."

"That's so _much _though." He pulled away just enough to glare at Blaine. "Seriously, you shouldn't have spent so much. I feel like a total- -"

"Do not," Blaine interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "I swear to you, I _swear_, I didn't spend a ridiculous amount of money on these. So just enjoy them, 'kay?"

"Ugh, I love you so much right now," Kurt blurted out, too wrapped up in the ecstacy of _actually owning Lady Gaga concert tickets _to even think about what he was saying.

"It's no problem at all," Blaine assured him, still grinning like an idiot.

"Come with me." Kurt had gotten to his feet again, and he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet enthusiastically as he awaited Blaine's response.

He blinked. "I would love to, but...what about Mercedes, or one of your other friends from McKinley? Don't you want to go with one of them?"

"None of them appreciate Gaga like I do," he sniffed. The truth was, Mercedes probably would have liked to go with him; but he knew her well enough to know that once she found out where he'd gotten the tickets, she'd probably order him to go with Blaine. "Besides, by giving me two tickets, you're saying I can invite whoever I want to come with me. And I'd like to go with you, if you're interested." He lifted a playful eyebrow. "Besides, I suspect that you still have an alarming fondness for Katy Perry, and I'm hoping that seeing the Fame Monster in concert will rectify this horror."

He burst out laughing. "Alright, alright. I'd like that a lot."

"That's what I thought." He narrowed his eyes playfully. Before either of them could say anything else, though, Kurt's phone rang loudly. "Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo, I'm outside. Let me in and we'll get your stuff out to the car."

"Sure, just a sec," he replied, voice tinged with the barest hint of regret.

"Your dad here?" Blaine asked, and maybe Kurt was imagining it, but he seemed slightly sorrowful as well.

"Yeah. He's outside."

"Oh, here, I'll help you with your stuff."

He probably should have protested, but the truth was, he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Blaine just yet. So instead, he tucked the envelope with the Gaga tickets reverently into his messenger bag, and shot Blaine a quick grin. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He grabbed one of Kurt's suitcases. "Besides, this way we don't have to say goodbye yet. That's the only thing that really sucks about holiday breaks, y'know?"

Kurt's throat had gone suddenly dry, and he forced himself to swallow, hard. _He's not just talking about you, idiot. He has friends. Calm the hell down. _"Yeah, absolutely. But, um...you never know, we might end up seeing each other. Right?"

_That would be really nice. I've gotten used to having you around all the time. _"Totally. And we'll talk. We'll definitely talk."

Kurt's entire face lit up as he nodded, and he snagged his key off the desk. "C'mon, I think my dad's out front."

Burt Hummel was, in fact, out front. And Burt Hummel was not expecting his son to walk out of his dormitory with a boy. Especially not a boy who was more than okay-looking, and who was standing just a little too close and smiling a little too brightly at Kurt for comfort. He narrowed his eyes slightly and cleared his throat. "Hey, Kurt."

"Hi, Dad!" Kurt all but beamed as he took his suitcase from Blaine and carefully loaded it into the back of the car. "This is Blaine."

Burt blinked. "Hi," he replied warily, shaking the kid's outstretched hand. "Kurt's, uh, told me a lot about you." Which was true, which was why Burt _really _didn't like the wide smile that bloomed on Blaine's face at the words.

"_Dad_," Kurt hissed, nudging him hard in the side and going kind of pink.

"It's great to finally meet you," Blaine answered, still smiling brightly. He wanted to say something more, maybe tell Mr. Hummel how great his unconditional acceptance of his son was, but it felt a lot like overstepping a boundary, especially considering he'd only met the man about ten seconds ago. Finally, he settled on, "Kurt's one of my best friends."

"That's...great," Burt managed, curving his lips up into a half-smile. This Blaine kid _did _seem like he genuinely cared about Kurt, which was comforting. "Thanks for helping with his stuff."

"It's no problem at all," Blaine assured him, and then turned to Kurt with a slightly awkward, uncertain grin. "Have a great holiday, Kurt, and thanks for the sweater. I'll talk to you soon."

"Definitely," Kurt affirmed, and surprised Blaine by pulling him into a quick hug. He murmured another fervent "_thank you" _in his ear before he let go, and, with one last smile, climbed into the car.

"So what was all that about?" Burt asked artlessly the moment they were out of sight of Dalton.

"Nothing," Kurt replied immediately. "Absolutely nothing. He's my friend, and he volunteered to help me bring everything to the car. So yeah."

Burt nodded slowly. "You like him?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on, Kurt, you talk about him all the time. I'm just askin'."

"I...yeah," Kurt admitted. "Not that he likes me back, so it's not like it matters."

"Who said he doesn't like you?" Burt demanded immediately, and his son groaned.

"I say so. Can we not? Can we maybe talk about something less awkward?"

"Alright," Burt relented. "But, uh...did he get you anything for Christmas? 'Coz I remember you said something about some sweater you found, and I was just wondering if you ended up giving it to him." Translation: I hope this kid appreciates you as much as you appreciate him, because if he doesn't, I will kick his ass. Besides, he'd heard Blaine mention the gift, but it was probably a good idea to at least pretend he hadn't been blatantly listening to their conversation.

Kurt's excited ramblings about Lady Gaga were enough to get them a good portion of the way home, and as his son chattered on, Burt couldn't help but be thankful that at least he had a crush on a kid who seemed to have actually taken the time to get to know him.

* * *

"He got you _what_?" Santana demanded several hours later, catching a popcorn kernel in her mouth. "Damn. You go, boy."

"You _are _taking him with you, aren't you?" Mercedes demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Of course. I mean, I would've, uh..."

"Oh, please, do not _even _play the excuse game," she snorted. "I would've killed you if you _didn't _take him, and you know it."

"Where are you going?" Brittany asked vaguely, tangling her legs with Kurt's.

"To a concert, boo," he replied easily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"With your boyfriend?"

"Get it," Puck whooped from several feet away, where he and the rest of the glee boys (and Lauren) sat playing a rousing round of RockBand.

"Whoa, what?" Finn asked, head whipping around to stare at Kurt. "What boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend," Kurt snapped, rolling his eyes. "I don't have a boyfriend, Finn, chill."

"Oh, whatever, he bought you fucking _concert tickets _for Christmas. How'd you repay him for that, Kurtie?"

"_Santana," _he groaned, facepalming. "You are such a perv."

"Wait, he got you what?" Finn demanded, abandoning the bass entirely.

"Gaga tickets," Kurt replied casually, still petting Brittany lightly.

"That's so cool," Tina exclaimed. "Are you gonna hang out with him over break?"

"I don't know."

"You should," she said wisely, sweeping her hair back from her forehead. "You should invite him to Mercedes's thing."

"Okay, can someone please explain to me why every single time we get together, my nonexistent love life is all we talk about?"

"Because we want you to be happy, and he seems to make you happy," Quinn replied sensibly, popping a chip into her mouth.

"And it's a thousand times more interesting than talking about how Finn finally got rid of the hobbit, which is why this night is so blissfully non-irritating."

"I was wondering why Rachel wasn't here." He furrowed his brow. "Since when does breaking up with Finn mean she can't even come hang out with the rest of us?"

"She said she couldn't face him," Mercedes whispered, leaning close so Finn couldn't hear; Kurt nodded empathetically. "She's not ready to deal with it yet."

"Why do you _care_?" Santana demanded.

"Uh, because she's our _friend_?" he pointed out, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Whatever," she scoffed. "It's not like that's some big shock, anyway. We'd rather talk about you getting laid than something that we all knew was going to happen anyway."

Finn made a choking sound, and Mike snorted. "Santana, I'm pretty sure you're going to kill him."

She rolled her eyes dismissively. "Eh, he'll be fine."

"Okay, one last thing and then we'll change the subject," Mercedes promised. "Do bring him to my place on New Year's. We wanna meet him for real. And it'll be fun, anyway."

"Can we open presents now?" Brittany asked impatiently, sitting up and only succeeding in getting herself even more tangled with Kurt (who she'd attached herself to the minute the rest of the guys had decided they'd rather play video games than talk). Since it was almost Christmas, they'd all decided to invade the Hudmel house to exchange gifts, therein why everyone (save Rachel) was currently crammed into the basement, stuffing themselves with food.

They exchanged looks, and then Quinn shrugged. "Sure."

As though the idea of getting new stuff had some kind of power that was impossible to ignore, the game was paused within seconds, and the boys charged over, Lauren close behind. "Presents?" Sam asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Oh, sure, _now_ you care we exist," Tina groused, glaring teasingly at Mike; he just grinned and pecked her on the lips.

Kurt laughed and settled comfortably in for the gift exchange.

...except it was New Directions, and he'd kind of forgotten how crazy they could all be, so the wrapping paper fight that followed the unwrapping took him a little by surprise. Somehow, he ended up lying flat on his back on the couch, wearing a bright pink bow on his head, ribs aching with the effort of laughing. The rest of them were sprawled out in all over the basement, in similar condition.

"Oh, these pictures are _so _going on facebook," Lauren wheezed, when she could finally breathe again.

* * *

Being able to spend the holiday at home was absolutely _glorious_. He spent hours on end helping Carole cook and bake in preparation for Christmas, and even watched a few football games with his dad and Finn (read: flipped through the new Vogue while sitting on the couch with them and occasionally glancing up to make a snide comment about something that was happening on the screen). And even though he was staunchly atheist, he had to admit that there was something just the right side of magical about Christmas time with the family. He'd kind of forgotten how nice it was to have a woman in the house, and even though Carole wasn't his mom, she wasn't trying to fill her shoes, either. She was just...herself. And she was an absolute sweetheart.

And then before he knew it, Christmas was over, and the next thing to look forward to was Mercedes's party. Brittany had taken to texting him every few hours to ask him random questions about his "boyfriend," and Mercedes had reminded him at least five times to remember to invite Blaine, so...well, he really didn't have a choice, did he? (HA. HA.)

"What are you doing New Year's Eve?" Kurt asked, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder and injecting a playful note into his voice, daring Blaine to comment on the song reference.

Sure enough, he hummed the song for a few seconds before answering. "Actually, my parents aren't going to be around. So, nothing, as far as I know, because Wes and David are both on vacation this year."

His heart leapt and he readjusted his position, clutching the phone tightly to make sure he wouldn't drop it. "You're not going to watch the ball drop or anything?" His words came out much more artlessly than he'd intended, but it couldn't be helped now.

Blaine shrugged, forgetting for a moment that Kurt couldn't see him. "I'll probably just end up watching on my couch with some food."

"By yourself?" Kurt exclaimed, dismayed.

"It's really okay," Blaine assured him, even though talking about his complete lack of plans made him feel a lot more pathetic than he'd originally thought it would. "I mean, it's not like my _parents_ are on vacation without me or something. It's a business thing, so I can't exactly...complain."

"Do you want to come to Mercedes's New Year party with me?" Kurt offered, suddenly grateful they'd opted to talk on the phone instead of skype for once. His face was absolutely _burning_, and he was sure that if Blaine could see him right now, his cover would be irreparably blown. "I-I mean, I hate the idea of you ringing in the New Year by yourself if you don't have to."

A brief pause. "Are you sure they won't mind?"

"Of course they won't," Kurt assured him quickly, texting Mercedes to tell her what was going on.

"That would be amazing," Blaine admitted, beaming. "I really didn't want to be alone."

Kurt suppressed an excited squeal. "Yay! This is going to be really fun, I promise."

"I'm really looking forward to it." He grinned, even though he knew Kurt couldn't see him. "So what exactly are the details?"

"Well, Dad and I have spent New Year's with the Joneses for the past couple of years, and then _last _year it somehow became a glee party, but my Dad was still invited because Mrs. Jones likes being a mother hen." He smiled fondly at the thought. "This year he's got Carole, so he said the two of them are going to leave a little after midnight, and the rest of us are going to sleep over- -you don't have to, if that makes you uncomfortable, but I promise, it's totally not awkward." His phone vibrated then, and he coughed to stifle his laugh as he read it: _dont forget to invite him to spend the night! ;)_

"I don't mind if they won't. That sounds like a lot of fun."

"Please, they've been dying to meet you. Oh, and on that note, don't listen to a word Santana or Puck says. Trust me. It will only end in horror."

Blaine cracked up. "Duly noted."

"Cool." Relieved, Kurt pressed valiantly on. "If you want, you can just leave your car here and go with us to get to Mercedes's. We usually go for dinner, around 6:30. Is that okay, or did you have plans?"

"I quite literally have no plans," Blaine admitted ruefully, "so this whole thing sounds completely amazing."

"So...so I'll see you then?" Kurt asked, literally unable to hide his delight.

"You'll see me then."

* * *

When Blaine arrived on his front porch, Kurt's first thought was, _holy Gaga, I was so right about that sweater._

His second thought was, _...he's wearing the sweater. _Yes.

"You're looking good," he said playfully, backing up to let him in. "That sweater's a good look for you. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, y'know, just some guy," he answered, winking and hugging Kurt quickly.

"You're in the habit of taking gifts from strange guys, huh?"

"Just this one," Blaine answered coyly. "You'd understand if you met him."

"Oh, yeah? What's so great about him?"

"He's pretty incredible," Blaine murmured lowly, hand kind of, not so accidentally brushing Kurt's.

"R-really?"

"Hey, you guys, why are you just standing in the hallway?" Finn asked, clomping loudly up the stairs. "We're leaving in like two seconds."

_Great. Thanks. _

"You guys ready?" Burt asked, lifting a slightly suspicious eyebrow as he wandered over.

"Uh huh," Kurt replied, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

Mercedes's door was unlocked, and once they walked in, Brittany let out a delighted squeal and launched herself into Kurt's arms. "Baby!" she trilled. "It makes me happy when we get to see you, because we miss you a lot at school. That's why Christmas break is my favorite."

It seemed to be her new life goal to tell her this absolutely every time she saw him; not that he minded. He just laughed. "Brittany Pierce, I will never, ever stop loving you," he informed her.

"Kurt's here!" Mercedes shrieked from the middle of the family room, and, with all the grace of a rampaging herd of elephants, the entirety of New Directions stampeded into the hallway and dragged him (and, by extension, Blaine) bodily the rest of the way into the house.

"You guys," he laughed, "you're acting like I haven't seen you in weeks! Good gracious, let me breathe!"

"Well, we don't get to see you every day anymore. We're making the most of it when we can," Rachel replied warmly, hugging him.

"Wait, we're ignoring Kurt's friend," Santana announced, giving him a completely unsubtle once-over. "Hel-_lo_, Blaine Warbler. Have you popped our boy's cherry yet?"

_Oh God. _"Santana, he's not used to your level of depravity yet, can you not scare him away before he's even been here five minutes?" Kurt snapped. Blaine, meanwhile, was just staring at her, looking sort of confused, but also smiling uncertainly.

"Uh..."

"You don't have to talk to her," Kurt added, squeezing Blaine's hand and ignoring Santana's completely unconvincing go-die glare. "Have you officially met everyone yet?"

"Just in passing," Blaine replied, his smile never wavering. "But I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to talk. It's great to see you all again."

"Dude," Sam exclaimed suddenly, rescuing him. "We're gonna do a Backstreet Boy song on karaoke. You in?"

Blaine's answer came immediately. "Absolutely."

"Kurt, you wanna sing with us?" Mike offered, and for a split second, Kurt was confused. He absolutely loved the boys, of course, but it wasn't like he usually participated in the 'guy' stuff that they did.

"You know what...sure," he replied decisively, and Mercedes whooped loudly.

"Yes! Blaine, have you ever heard this boy's low voice?"

"Low voice?" Blaine's eyebrow inched up. "No, can't say I have."

Tina's eyes lit up immediately. "So I'm guessing you don't know about the John Mellencamp thing?"

"The _what?_"

"Tina," Kurt growled warningly.

"I think I have video!" Quinn exclaimed, digging in her bag for her phone.

"_What?_" he howled. "Quinn, no, do _not_. I swear by all things Gaga, I will _end you."_

"Found it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, passing it over to Blaine.

"No, no, what about the Backstreet Boys?" Kurt half-whimpered. "I thought we were singing! I was excited!"

Puck was staring over Blaine's shoulder at the tiny screen, snorting with poorly suppressed laughter. "I forgot how fuckin' hilarious this was, man. Good times."

Kurt moaned and buried his face in Tina's shoulder. "Look what you started..."

"At least we didn't tell him about the Cheerio thing," she murmured, petting his hair gently. "That, I won't do."

"Thank you."

"Hey, Kurt?" Blaine now, mirth evident in his voice.

"Mmph," he replied, refusing to look over at him.

"I didn't know you had such a...well-developed low range."

He glared. "Shut up."

"No, seriously!" He snorted. "Plaid, though? Was this some kind of phase?"

"I hate you all."

"Oh, c'mere." He reached for Kurt, grinning. "I'm not even judging you. Promise."

"It was a dark time, alright? I followed it up with 'Rose's Turn' when I finally came to my senses."

"That's actually really impressive," Blaine grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Tina relinquished him. "Hey, no worries. I solemnly swear that I won't mention this ever again if you don't want me to."

"I wore a _trucker hat, _Blaine. Of course I don't want you to mention it again."

"Duly noted," he answered cheerfully. "Now c'mon, let's go sing!"

After allowing the boys one Backstreet Boy number and a few more suitably manly songs (during which Kurt sat on the sidelines and braided Quinn's hair and/or painted Mercedes's nails an appropriately sassy shade of shocking pink), the girls (and Kurt) took over with some Gaga.

Watching Kurt interact with his old glee club was both wonderful and painful. He was so much more alive when he was with them- -that much was clear from the bright gleam in his eye every time he spoke to one of them, the casual way they touched him, the playful, teasing quips that traveled among them so effortlessly it was as though they were instinct. But at the same time, it was alarmingly clear to Blaine that, while Kurt was undoubtedly _safer _at Dalton...he didn't belong there. He wasn't quite _himself _there; he thought for a long time before he spoke, edited himself, had to dull himself down to fit in.

It was no wonder it had been so hard for him at the beginning, if this was what he was used to.

The time was _flying _by; New Directions managed to incorporate Blaine almost seamlessly into their group (though it certainly helped that Kurt was right there with him). But then, at some point, he got caught up in a deeply entertaining conversation with Brittany, and when he looked beside him again, Kurt was gone.

"Britt? Do you know where Kurt is?" he asked, once he had the opportunity.

She shook her head. "You should find him. He needs a midnight kiss, you know."

He flushed. "I, uh...I'll be right back."

Kurt wasn't anywhere in the house, and Blaine was just starting to get worried when, on a hunch, he ventured outside. And there he was, standing on the porch, bracing himself on the banister and staring blankly off into space. Blaine watched him for a moment, trying to understand, but Kurt's expression never wavered, never hinted at what he might be thinking.

"Hey," he murmured, crossing over to him. "Are you okay? You just kind of disappeared."

"Huh?" He blinked, starting slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you."

"It's fine, your friends are great. But..." Blaine inched closer, furrowing his brow. "There're only five minutes to midnight, you know. You're going to miss watching the ball drop if you stay out here." Kurt's wan attempt at a smile wasn't fooling him for a moment, and he shoulder-bumped him lightly. "Talk to me?"

"I'm just..." He gestured halfheartedly toward the house. "I just _miss _them, you know? And I know it's stupid for me to be wasting time out here when I should be spending every possible second with them, but...it's hard. Because I can't help but realize that no matter how hard they try to keep me in the loop, there're always going to be things I miss. And what if- -what if one day, they start to forget about me?" He kicked the ground. "It's stupid. Forget it."

Blaine's heart stung, and he twisted his fingers together uncertainly. Kurt needed some assurance right now, and Blaine wanted desperately to help him. He only hoped that whatever he was about to say would turn out less disastrously than his Karofsky advice. "Kurt..."

The countertenor lifted his eyes briefly. "Never mind. Do you want to go back in? It's cold."

"Hey, no, c'mere," Blaine protested, reaching out to take Kurt's hand. "Don't downplay your feelings like that."

"I'm being ridiculous," Kurt shot back, shaking his head. "And I really don't want to ruin New Year's for you, so let's just go back inside."

"You're not ruining anything." Blaine squeezed his hand gently. "And you're not being ridiculous. What you've done, Kurt...leaving all your friends and family...it's not _easy. _Not by any means. Of _course _you'll still miss them, and of course it will be difficult for you not to be as big a part of their lives as you used to be. But." Slowly, almost tenderly, he reached out and lifted Kurt's chin, forcing him to stop staring at the ground. "Now that I've met all your friends for real, I can promise you that they will _never _forget you. They adore you, Kurt. As they should. And you mean far too much to them for them to let a few miles come between you."

"Thank you," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine and exhaling shakily into his cashmere-clad shoulder.

At that precise moment, there was a huge commotion inside, Mercedes' shriek rising above the rest of the chaos: "Finn Hudson, don't you _dare- -!_"

The door flew open before she could finish, and Finn was crowing, "You guys, come inside there's less than a min- -oh. Sorry." And, sheepishly, he disappeared again.

Kurt laughed for real this time. "I swear, he has the people skills of a five-year-old."

"He's well-intentioned," Blaine replied amusedly, and promptly towed Kurt inside and into the Jones' family room just in time to see the ball fall. The room exploded with still more merriment; somewhere, a cork popped and there was a burst of adult laughter. As Santana giggled hysterically (because she had apparently managed to convince herself that it was absolutely _necessary _for her to kiss as many people as she possibly could- -Blaine suspected she'd broken into the champagne stash long before midnight without the parents noticing), he tapped Kurt lightly on the shoulder. He turned, raising a quizzical eyebrow, and Blaine leaned forward before he could remind himself of all the reasons it would be a bad idea, and pressed his lips to Kurt's cheek, just next to his lips. "Happy New Year, Kurt."

"Happy New Year," Kurt echoed dazedly, powerless to stop the ridiculous grin that was spreading across his face.

"BLAINE WARBLER," Santana trumpeted, springing forward to attack; he fielded her with an awkward half-laugh, barely managing to turn his head enough to keep her from kissing him full on the lips. She didn't seem to notice or care, and just as Kurt was trying to decide whether to be entertained or irritated with her for ruining the moment, Mercedes hurled herself into his arms.

"Happy New Year, white boy!" she exclaimed, and he laughed, spinning her around and pecking her lightly on the lips.

"Happy New Year, gorgeous!"

"Sorry, baby," she added in a stage whisper. "I tried to stop Finn from interrupting y'all's moment, but you know how he is."

"Do I ever." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's okay."

"I saw that kiss, by the way," she added, winking. "And just _what _was _that_?"

"It was...I...do not know," Kurt admitted, blushing madly and instinctively touching his cheek in the exact place that Blaine's lips had.

She giggled. "Well, just keep it PG tonight, yeah? Remember that my parents are gonna be here."

"Mercedes!" he shrieked, whacking her on the arm and covering his face with his hands. "We are not going to be doing any of- -of _that_."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, laughing and ruffling his hair. "Go rescue him from Santana's clutches or you'll never get him back."

The thought of Santana refusing to relinquish Blaine from her bright red talons was so unacceptable that Kurt, completely on instinct, spun around and exclaimed, "Hey, Blaine, dance with me!"

"As you wish," Blaine replied cheerfully, disentangling himself from Santana's drunken grasp and bogeying playfully over to him.

"Oh, look, a conveniently timed slow song!" Mercedes called over to Puck, who was currently DJ-ing.

He shot her a weird look, but complied. Kurt froze immediately, only capable of glaring laser beams at his soon-to-be-deceased best friend. She just winked, cackling wickedly, and accepted Sam's proffered hand with a slightly surprised smile. Blaine stopped and extended a hand, giving him the opportunity, should he want it, to walk away.

_As if I ever could._

"Have you ever slow-danced before?" Blaine whispered as he pulled Kurt close, his lips accidentally brushing Kurt's ear; Kurt worked to suppress a shiver.

"Not with a boy," he admitted, reddening.

"Are you nervous?"

_Yes. Oh, God, yes. _But at the same time... "N-not really. I don't know."

"Don't be. It's only me," he murmured, still leading as though this was nothing, as though being so close to Kurt like this didn't make his pulse race and his breath quicken.

"I know," he whispered, and somehow, as the song continued, he found the courage to lay his head on Blaine's shoulder (because he was too tall to rest against Blaine's chest). Blaine's arms tightened around him, and he smiled.

* * *

Much like Kurt and Mercedes, Nick and Jeff had their own set of New Year's traditions. Since neither of their families had ever cared much about the pomp and circumstance of the evening, they never bothered to go to parties or anything, and typically ended up flipping on the TV with mild interest only a few minutes before the ball dropped.

Nick had always appreciated the symbolic nature of the night, and Jeff just thought it was cool, so they'd decided years before that if their parents weren't going to do anything, they'd just make their own celebration. This particular New Year's Eve found them sprawled out on Jeff's bed, surrounded by snacks and laughing hysterically over the results of the video game they'd just finished playing. Nick's amusement faded quickly as he caught sight of the clock, his stomach flipping in a sudden burst of fear. He'd promised himself he wouldn't keep this secret from Jeff into the new year. It wasn't fair to Jeff, and it was tearing him up, anyway. "Hey, look, it's almost midnight," Jeff commented, deftly flipping a few switches so that the TV was showing them live coverage of the crowds in Times Square.

"Yeah..." Nick clutched nervously at a handful of Jeff's comforter and let out a gusty sigh. "I- -can I talk to you about something?"

"Yeah, 'course." The TV was muted in a second, and Jeff turned to face him, brow furrowed in concern. "You okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

_Just say it. _He closed his eyes, but the words wouldn't come. "Um."

If he'd been looking, he'd have noticed Jeff move closer, would have noticed the increasing worry in his eyes. "Hey, come on. You're freaking me out."

"Sorry, sorry." He exhaled, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "I'm okay."

"So what's _wrong_?" Jeff pressed, a little impatiently. "You can't just not tell me now, I'll just assume it's worse than- -"

"I'm gay." _And you're in love with him. You're not finished until you admit to that._

"Oh!" He let out a short burst of relieved laughter. "God, Nick, you scared the hell out of me. I thought something had _happened _to you."

_Ican'tdothis. _"No, I'm...I'm okay," he managed, forcing a smile. "Just that."

"Geez, idiot, you didn't have to freak out about it by yourself! Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I just did," he pointed out, ignoring the splintering pain of heartache and trying to focus on breathing. It hadn't gotten any easier. Why wasn't it getting any easier?

"Seriously." Jeff's face was unusually solemn. "Did you actually think it would make a difference to me?"

Even though he knew Jeff had meant them as a good thing, Nick flinched at the words. "Of course not. I was just...having some trouble dealing with it."

"That's what you have me for," Jeff rebuked him gently, opening his arms. "To help you with this shit. You're not allowed to forget that anymore, y'hear? Now c'mere and give me a hug."

"Aye aye, captain," Nick replied, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

He wasn't quite sure when the tears came, but the next thing he knew, he was clutching the back of Jeff's sweater and struggling to cry without making any noise, as though that would keep his friend from knowing what he was doing. He wasn't even sure whether he was crying out of relief or disappointment- -disappointment that even though he'd had the strength to reveal one of his biggest secrets, the other was still there, and never far enough from the forefront of his mind.

"Are- -are you crying?"

"Sorry," he choked out, and Jeff just rubbed his back gently. He wasn't used to seeing Nick so torn up; in fact, he was pretty sure he'd _never _seen him like this. It was...awful.

"Don't apologize," he whispered sympathetically, tightening his grip just a little. "It's gonna be okay. I promise. Just let it out."

"Thanks," he managed when his tears had finally slowed. "I don't really know why I just lost it like that."

"Don't even worry about it," Jeff assured him. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah," he half-lied, forcing himself to meet Jeff's eyes and smile.

_Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five..._

"By the way," Jeff added softly, "happy New Year."

"What?"

"Happy New Year," he repeated with a gentle smile.

"Happy New Year," Nick echoed, and then, before he could even think about what he was doing, he added with a snort, "My cousin always throws these ridiculous parties and then freaks out if she doesn't get kissed at midnight. Insists it's bad luck."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeff lifted an amused eyebrow. "Can't risk that, can we?"

"We probably shouldn't," Nick agreed, voice trembling just slightly.

"Hey, it's just me," Jeff murmured, misunderstanding his friend's nervousness. "Just me. You're my best friend, y'know? This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

Pain. So much _pain_. He wanted _so badly _to say that it did mean something, that it would mean everything, but he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

"Okay," he forced out instead, trying to smile.

Jeff's thumb skimming lightly along Nick's cheekbone as he wiped away one final tear. And then, gently, so gently, he pressed their lips together.


	11. The Football Team Did What!

**Author's Note: ...hi. *guilty wave* **

**You know what? Just read. Real life author's note to follow. :)**

The time immediately following New Year's Eve was even more difficult for Nick than back when Jeff had been in the dark about his sexuality. His traitorous mind insisted on replaying every godforsaken detail of that night- -the way Jeff had kind of smiled against his lips, hand warm and steady on his cheek. The way his eyelashes had brushed lightly against Nick's skin and the kiss lingered just a little longer than platonic, what-the-hell-why-not kisses should.

Then again, was kissing ever really platonic?

He groaned, rolling over to press his face into his pillow. In a decidedly anticlimactic fashion, they had followed up their midnight kiss by watching a movie, and Jeff had kept up a steady stream of their typical commentary. Nick had managed to interject every once in a while, to keep Jeff from noticing that he still wasn't really okay.

They hadn't really talked since then; Jeff kept texting him just to chat, but he couldn't really bring himself to respond. Except that he was starting to run out of reasons that they couldn't hang out, or couldn't have a real conversation beyond the bare necessities. And now they had been back at school for about a week, and there was no way to avoid him anymore.

And speaking of...a key turned in the lock, and Nick winced, burrowing deeper under his comforter. "Hey, you!" Jeff sang, and paused. "Uh, are you okay?"

"Just tired," Nick muttered, rubbing his eyes and avoiding Jeff's gaze.

"...it's only six o clock."

"I know. I think I just need a nap or something."

"You've been really tired lately, though," Jeff murmured, sitting on the edge of Nick's bed. "Are you sure you're not getting sick or something?"

Nick shrugged, toying with a loose thread in his sheet.

"O...kay." Uncertain, Jeff got up again. "If...if you need anything, just let me know, then."

"Okay," he replied, trying for a grin. "Thanks."

* * *

For Kurt, returning to school was difficult for an entirely different reason. He had begun to resign himself to being confused about Blaine forever, so the half-flirtations and lingering looks, while still angst-inducing, weren't the true cause of his ennui. No, instead, being at home for just short of two weeks, he'd managed to fall back into the routine of living at home- -of being able to talk to his dad, or Carole, or Finn, whenever the urge struck him. Of being able to go pick up Mercedes for a random, post-holiday mall-hopping excursion (the sales were always the best just after the holidays), or go get coffee with Britt. And now he was back at Dalton, and it almost felt like it had at the very beginning.

It didn't help that since he'd been back, something major had apparently happened on the New Directions front; Carole kept dropping little whispered comments about Finn and football and glee every time they skyped, but apparently she didn't have the details. And he kept trying to wheedle them out of Finn whenever _they _talked, but all his stepbrother would tell him was that by some absolute miracle, the football team had managed to make it to the championship, which was coming up. But the jocks had been forced to join glee (which would similarly never make sense to Kurt _ever_), and they were being even more unbearable than usual, so the game was probably going to be epically disastrous anyway. The very thought of his tormentors invading what had been his safe zone made Kurt shudder; but when he tried to ask for more information, Finn would just shake his head, looking wan, and ask if maybe they could talk about the Warblers instead.

He'd kept the family drama to himself; it wasn't that he didn't think Blaine would be helpful but...he just really didn't want to talk about it if he didn't have to.

Meanwhile, though, the council had decided (however inadvertently) to do something that would cheer Kurt up, for once. When Wes started handing out a new arrangement with the cheerful order, "Sightread!" Kurt realized that something very strange was about to happen.

"What- -" Befuddled, he glanced down at the pages in his hand, and his face lit up immediately. "Destiny's Child, Wes? Since when is that in our wheelhouse?"

The other boy just shrugged, laughing. "Since now. You wanted showbiz panache, right? Found this yesterday and thought it might be fun. Everybody ready?"

"Wait, where's Blaine?"

"We've got it covered," Aaron replied, jerking his head in Nick's direction and smirking. "He's preparing for his grand entrance."

"Of course he is." Kurt snorted and joined a few of the others on the couch. "Let's do this, then."

He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed, that Blaine could pull off singing a girlpower song as though it had been written for him. The rest of the Warblers seemed equally unshocked, if the easy way that they jumped in with whatever random choreography popped into their heads without so much as blinking was any indication.

"And now you ask to use my car," Blaine continued, his music long since abandoned as he hopped up on the arm of the couch right next to Kurt. Kurt barely managed to suppress his surprised giggle, tipping his head back to watch Blaine stroll across the back of said couch. "Drive it all day and don't fill up the tank; but you have the audacity to even come and step to me; ask to hold some money from me until you get your check next week..."

This really shouldn't have been as hotas it was, Kurt mused, letting go of his inhibitions entirely and just _grooving_. And then all of a sudden Blaine was back, kneeling next to Kurt with this unbearably sexy look on his face as he sang, "Silly me, why haven't I found another?"

What was singing, again? What were words? What was _breathing, _for the love of God, he was so not going to be able to recover from this.

He abandoned his part entirely for the sake of trying to stay alive, managing to get up to watch some of the more gymnastically talented Warblers dance. Jeff and Nick in particular seemed to steal the stage in that regard, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were trying to communicate something to one another as they moved.

And then, all too soon, the song was over, and a triumphant Blaine was laughing, "I'd say we're ready for regionals!"

Cheers and catcalls erupted, and a breathless, elated David whooped, "Damn right we are!"

"What'd you think, Kurt?" Wes added, nudging him lightly. "Flashy enough for you?"

"Actually, I'm really impressed," Kurt laughed. "We pulled it off!"

"Can we do it again?" Jeff asked eagerly, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "If we can get it a little more together, I think we could _totally _do this for regionals!"

Thad, Wes, and David all exchanged looks and nodded as one. "From the top, then, gentlemen," Wes yelled, attempting to be heard over the gleeful, excited chatter of the others.

They ended up getting out of rehearsal a little early, which turned out to be a good thing; they hadn't been done practicing longer than a few minutes before Kurt's phone started ringing.

"Hello?" he said absently, rummaging through his bag for his key.

"Hi baby."

He paused. "Honey, you sound exhausted, are you okay?"

"Actually...do you think you can meet me for coffee tomorrow?" Mercedes asked. "Things're seriously crappy over here, and I kinda just want to get away from it all, y'know?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Kurt promised. "If you don't want to wait, I can leave now and be at the Lima Bean in like an hour." Blaine paused halfway out the door and turned to face Kurt, furrowing his brow in concern. _"Mercedes," _he mouthed, holding up one finger. Blaine nodded, leaning against the doorframe to wait.

"No," she sighed, "I don't think so. I'm pretty exhausted, so I'm probably gonna go to bed as soon as I'm done with all my homework and shit. But tomorrow after glee okay with you?"

He had been planning to help Blaine study for his French exam, but she sounded worse than he'd heard her in a long while. _Shit. _"I, um...yeah."

"Kurt."

"No, it's fine," he assured her hastily, hating the fact that she could read him so well even over the phone.

"If you have plans, it's not a problem," she answered, except that he could hear in her voice that it kind of was. She'd been really hoping for this, probably thinking about it on and off all day; which was why he shot the still-clueless Blaine an apologetic look before he replied.

"Seriously, Mercedes. I'll be there, I promise you."

She was quiet for a moment. "You can bring Blaine, you know."

A surprised laugh escaped him. "What are you talking about?"

"Baby, you wouldn't sound so guilty if you hadn't been considering blowing me off for your boy toy. Bring him with, I don't mind."

"What- -I wouldn't've- -he's not my- -"

She snorted. "Calm down, honey. I gotta go, I've got so much to do. But I'll see you both tomorrow. Love you!"

"Love you too." He hung up, tucked the phone away, and turned to look at Blaine, who was still patiently standing exactly where he'd been when he took the call. "Hi."

"Hi," Blaine answered, quirking an amused eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"She's really upset," he replied, twisting his fingers together nervously. "And I know I promised I'd help you get ready for that test, and I still will, but I've got to go meet her tomorrow. I want to make sure she's alright."

"I totally understand," Blaine assured him. "I can bumble through on my own for a few hours before you get home."

"Actually, that's the thing. Mercedes kind of invited you, too, if you want to come. We can drill vocab in the car." He nudged Blaine gently, grinning. "Interested?"

He looked surprised. "Sure! Really?"

"She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it. Promise."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'd really like that."

"I'm driving," he added, narrowing his eyes. "You spend too much gas money driving me places." Blaine opened his mouth to argue, and Kurt's glare grew poisonous. "Blaine Anderson. I'm serious."

"Alright, I give," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Good," he grinned. "I figure we'll leave right after practice. That okay?"

"Sounds fantastic."

* * *

"So what's everyone so upset about?" Blaine asked the next day, as Kurt drove them to the Lima Bean.

"Oh, God, it's such a story." Kurt shook his head, then did his best to recap the whole nightmare in five minutes or less. "...and I'd have told you about it sooner, but I didn't want to get into it before I knew the whole story. But Rachel texted me this morning and told me she's coming, so it's looking like we're both going to get all the information we could ever want."

"Well, you _are _going to see them, aren't you?" he challenged. "It sounds like this is a pretty big deal."

_Dammit, he knows me so well_. "I...don't know."

"But it's your brother, and some of your best friends, playing in the _championship_!" Blaine protested. "And don't you want to see them all sing?"

"Of _course_. God, I'd love to go support them. It's...it's about Karofsky."

"Kurt..." Blaine bit his lip. "Your parents are going, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"They're not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered. "I promise you that. And Karofsky will be too wrapped up in the game to even think about trying anything."

Kurt twitched one shoulder, mouth turning down in the corners. "Maybe."

"Do you want me to come?" he offered. "I'll be another pair of eyes, make sure he doesn't get anywhere near you." He let himself grin. "Plus, I wouldn't mind an excuse to go to a game."

Kurt smiled despite himself. "Would you really do that?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll think about it," he relented, pulling into the spot right next to Mercedes's car. Blaine didn't respond, just followed him into the coffee shop. The girls greeted Kurt with the usual barrage of squeals and hugs (further cementing in Blaine's head the notion that seeing Kurt interact with them was always nothing short of adorable), and Mercedes hugged Blaine, grinning.

"Good to see you, boy. Wish we weren't such a mess right now, though." She rolled her eyes. "Did Kurt fill you in?"

"I got the cliff notes version," he replied, grinning back. "Sounds really rough."

"And now we don't even have the Cheerios!" Rachel was wailing in the meantime, clutching at Kurt. "All three of them bailed on us!"

"Britt told me on facebook the other day, I think," Kurt replied, wincing. "Look, Rachel, sweetie, wasn't the point to get _away _from all the annoyance? Why don't we order and just hang out for a while?"

"Okay," she agreed, "I suppose that makes sense."

She and Blaine ended up going on ahead to order, and Mercedes smiled and slung her arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Dish."

"Dish what? There's nothing to dish!"

"Do you _see _the way he looks at you, boy? Nothing to dish..." She huffed. "You'll see. I'll prove it to you somehow."

"Mercedes," he warned, "don't do anything ridiculous."

"When have you ever known me to do anything ridiculous?" she asked, batting her lashes innocently. "All I'm going to do is see how he reacts to a couple of things." And she stepped up to place her order before he could protest.

"Now, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but you guys had better be pulling out all the stops for regionals. The number we just rehearsed is so off the hook it's _dangerous_," Blaine teased once they had all gotten their assorted snacks and drinks, smiling playfully at the girls as he selected a table.

"Seriously, people should wear protective headgear when they watch it," Kurt agreed, dropping gracefully into the seat beside him. Neither girl laughed; his own grin vanished in response. "Guys...we're kidding."

"Yeah, well, it's just hard to laugh with everything going on at McKinley," Rachel replied flatly, pulling the lid off her cup and staring moodily into its depths. Kurt glanced at Mercedes, hoping she'd be willing to explain further, but she looked equally downtrodden.

"I mean, look at us. The stars of two rival show choirs are _sitting down for coffee_. Our school is so messed up that we can't even get our own football team to stay together."

She had a point; the chances of Rachel Berry willingly fraternizing with the enemy- -especially after the Jesse St. Jackass fiasco- -should have been less than zero. Yet here she was, not even darting suspicious glances toward Blaine as he sipped his coffee or trying to con him into leaking the setlist. This was serious. Kurt bit his lip sympathetically.

"It's so sad, you guys," she piped up suddenly. "Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue were so close to getting everyone in the school together."

The thought of Karofsky being in any way 'together' with the glee club made Kurt's blood run cold; but this moment wasn't about him, and he knew it. So he quickly pushed his own emotions aside and tried to focus on his friends. "Why hasn't Finn told me anything about this? I mean, I know we technically don't live together anymore, but we video skype every night while I'm drinking my warm milk. You'd think it would've come up."

Mercedes nearly choked on her frappuccino; Blaine winced, halting with a piece of biscotti halfway to his mouth. "Warm milk? Really?"

"It's delicious!" Kurt protested.

"Finn's too proud to complain," Rachel cut in, her whole tone changing now that it was safe to talk about Finn. "He feels like he has to be strong for everyone, but I know it's just killing him inside." Kurt treaded lightly on Mercedes' foot under the table, trying to maintain his poker face; she caught his gaze and half-rolled her eyes. Rachel, meanwhile, seemed to be just getting warmed up. Already well aware that neither Kurt nor Mercedes wanted to hear her wax poetic about how much she wished Finn would give her another chance, she had zeroed in on Blaine. "I hope he realizes that if he and I were back together, I could make him feel a lot better, you know?"

Blaine, ever tactful, just continued chewing on his biscotti, but Kurt winced. _Oh, _God_. _"Let it go, Rachel."

She sighed and sagged back against her chair. "I just wish there was a way we could help."

"Yeah, and the worst part is how down the guys are," Mercedes agreed. "I mean, they already suffer enough abuse just for being in glee. I think winning the game might ease some of the pressure, at least for a little while."

Blaine furrowed his brow confusedly and asked, around a mouthful of biscotti, "Wait, so the whole team quit?"

"Everybody not in glee," Mercedes confirmed. "But you can't play football with five guys, and one of them's in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, Coach Beiste put a signup sheet for people to join. I think they'll take anyone at this point," Rachel continued ruefully. Blaine straightened slightly, leaning forward; Kurt recognized it as his 'I am about to earnestly inform you of something that I hope will be helpful to you' expression.

"Well, the good news is you only actually need four more guys to play," he began, and Kurt's eyes widened slightly. Yes, Blaine had said _guys_, but there was already a deeply frightening gleam in Rachel's eye that hadn't been there a second ago. And Blaine was still talking. This had the potential to go very badly, very quickly. "High school regulations actually let you play a few guys short if you want to. But if they figure out a way to make it work, you can bet we'll be there to cheer them on." He turned to Kurt, smiling, the meaning in his eyes clear. _You are _going _to this game. _

"Oh, totally," Kurt relented, eyes fixed on Blaine. _You win._ "Blaine and I love football."

The _boy, who the hell do you think you're trying to fool _look on Mercedes's face, paired with the _who are you and what have you done with Kurt Hummel _expression Rachel was wearing brought him up short. "Well, Blaine likes football. I like scarves." Mercedes's lips twitched for the first time all afternoon, and he jumped at the opportunity this provided. "Let's talk about something more exciting. We're here to cheer you up, right?"

"I could use some cheering up," Rachel agreed, stealing a piece of Mercedes's muffin.

Kurt clapped excitedly, and they immediately launched into as many stories about Warbler rehearsals (usually involving Wes or David's inadvertently amusing antics).

At some point, Mercedes treaded lightly on his foot, smirking, and asked, "Speaking of Warblers, white boy, didn't you go out with somebody the other day?"

His eyes widened. _What are you doing? _But her smile just widened. "Uh...yeah."

"Wait, what?" Rachel shrieked. "Why does no one ever tell me anything? What date?"

"It was not- -" He groaned. "Okay, this guy Jeff asked me out a while ago...it was _not _the other day, Mercedes. We just went to go get coffee."

"Is he cute?" Rachel demanded. "Do you have pictures?"

"Uh..." _I hate you, Mercedes. _"He's pretty cute, yeah, but I don't have pictures, Rach. It's not like he's my boyfriend."

"Are you going out with him again?"

"No."

"Whaaaaat?" Rachel whined. "Why not?"

"Because." He sighed. "I just think we work better as friends."

"Was it not a good date?" she asked wisely, as though she was the very expert of crappy dates. "You might want to consider giving him another chance. Because sometimes if they're really nervous- -"

"Rachel!" he interrupted, half-glancing at Blaine, who was toying with a piece of biscotti and staring at the table. "It was a good date. It was a great date, actually- -" he wasn't quite sure why he was saying that, because while it had been fun, it hadn't felt much like a date...well, he supposed he was just trying to be fair to Jeff. "- -but there just wasn't a spark, y'know?"

"Oh, totally," she replied, nodding eagerly.

"Can we talk about something else now?" Kurt asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I still feel kind of bad about the whole thing."

"I've actually gotta go, baby," Mercedes cut in, getting up and looking way too happy about this whole situation. "But I'll see you both at the game, right?"

"Yeah, totally," Kurt replied, grinning back and accepting her hug. "Explain later," he ordered in a low voice, and she laughed.

"Duh, boy."

"We should go, too," Blaine added, sounding suddenly weary. "Is that okay, Kurt? It's just, I just remembered that I have this huge project..."

"No, of course, no problem!"

"Aww, okay," Rachel pouted, getting up and pulling Kurt into a massive hug. "Bye!"

"Bye, sweetie," Kurt replied, kissing the top of her head.

Blaine hugged both girls, and then trailed quietly after Kurt. The other boy didn't comment on Blaine's strange shift in mood until they'd been in the car in complete silence for about twenty minutes. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"I'm..." _strangely bothered by that whole "date" conversation _"just stressed. I really do have a project that I totally forgot about."

But Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, but bullshit."

"What?"

"You can trust me, you know, Blaine. If something's bothering you, just _tell _me." He caught Blaine's eye in the rearview mirror and held it as long as he dared. "I want to be there for you. Like you always are for me."

Blaine sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to even _say_? "I...I don't know. I'm just a little upset, I guess. I don't really know what's going on with me. Haven't you ever felt like that?"

"Well, yeah." Kurt glanced over again, still not sure if he was buying it. "But Blaine...if you ever do want to talk about anything, you know I'll listen, don't you?"

"I know." He smiled slightly. "Thanks. But hey, look, I don't want to ruin the evening with my ridiculous angsting."

Kurt braked at a red light and put his hand on Blaine's knee. "Don't downplay your feelings like that."

It was an echo of what he'd said to Kurt on New Year's, and the fact that he remembered it to repeat it weeks later was enough to brighten Blaine's mood considerably. "Want to go see a movie or something?"

"I think you're just trying to avoid studying." Kurt winked. "When's your test?"

"Not until the day after Finn's game."

"I guess I can allow that, then," he teased. "We just going to see what's playing when we get there?"

Blaine shrugged. "Sure. Unless you want to do something else. I don't really care what we actually do, I just don't really want to go back to Dalton yet, either." It occurred to him once he'd stopped speaking that he'd just screwed himself over. He'd pulled Kurt away from his friends saying tat he had to get home and do work, and now he was practically begging not to go back? Probably not too wise; but if Kurt noticed, he didn't say anything.

"I like the idea of a movie," he said instead. "Haven't been able to just zone out and watch something in a while."

The only movie that was playing anytime in the vicinity of when they arrived at the theatre was some ridiculously cheesy-looking romantic comedy. "Why not?" Kurt asked, spots of color high on his cheeks. "If nothing else, we can just make fun of it the whole time."

Blaine used "But you drove!" as an excuse to pay for Kurt's ticket, and Kurt insisted on paying for refreshments, "because you try to pay for everything all the damn time." The theatre was half-empty, for which Kurt was absurdly grateful. Being surrounded by macking couples was _not _something he could have handled. But somehow, even though the atmosphere was still couple-y, it wasn't awkward. They sat with their heads close together, snickering and making occasional scathing comments. True, the requisite makeout scenes were...interesting; but as long as Kurt didn't look at Blaine, or think too much about what he was witnessing, he was fine.

And Blaine seemed much happier as they left the theatre. "That movie was _awful_," he laughed as they got back into Kurt's car.

"It really was," Kurt agreed, snickering. "Good call on going to the movies, Blaine. Good call."

Whatever had been plaguing Blaine that night, he didn't mention it again, and before Kurt knew it, it was the day of the game.

* * *

_ "I like scarves." _Blaine probably should have been alarmed about the fact that Kurt's voice, clear as a bell, had just popped into his head. Instead, he just smiled and wound the brightly-colored material around his neck.

Paul answered when he knocked, and greeted him with a bright smile and a wave. "C'mon in, Kurt's almost ready."

"Hi Blaine!" the boy in question exclaimed, still half-buried in his closet. "Just...one...second."

"What're you doing?" Paul asked, obviously entertained, peeking over at him.

"I don't know how these damn gloves ended up all the way up here," he huffed angrily, still straining to reach them.

"Here, move. I'll get them, I've got like two inches on you."

"Thanks," he answered, grinning and scuttling into view. "Nice scarf, Blaine."

"This them?" Paul piped up, holding out the scraps of material. Kurt nodded and bounced over to take them.

"Thanks, roomie!"

"Anytime," Paul laughed. "I'll see y'all around, I gotta go. Have fun at your game."

"Bye!"

The door clicked closed. "Are those fingerless gloves?" Blaine's eyebrow inched up. "You do realize it's like thirty degrees outside?"

"I know." He sniffed, pulling them on. "I'll be fine. Look how well they match."

"You are going to freeze."

"Oh, shut up. We're gonna be late if we don't get going, c'mon!"

"I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm never going to see you this eager about anything sports-related ever again," Blaine teased. "I feel like I should be reveling in this."

Truth was, Kurt was sort of terrified. But at the same time, he knew it meant a lot to Finn and his friends that he'd be there to see them play/perform, so dammit, he was going to be there come hell or high water. "You're probably right," he said instead. "Do you have a study guide for that test so I have some idea of what to quiz you on?"

"Yeah, I'll just give it to you. You okay with me driving?"

"Is there any point to me trying to give you gas money?"

"Nope," he replied cheerfully. "Just give me five seconds to go get my keys and stuff. Are we going right to McKinley?"

"Actually...if you don't mind too much, I think Dad and Carole wanted us to stop by first, and I- -I think I'd feel safer if we rode with them. It's not about...I mean, I just don't want to risk anything happening to you, and I wouldn't put it past them to recognize the car or something."

"Okay, no, I totally understand. It's no problem. Here, I'll be right back, and then we'll go."

Testing Blaine probably should have been seriously distressing, but it was actually kind of hilarious. "Have you even been going to class?" Kurt demanded through hysterical giggles. It was a little distracting, that laugh. His whole face lit up when he was happy- -he _glowed_. It was a sight Blaine was pretty sure he'd never get tired of seeing.

"I...try to?" Blaine offered, trying for a winning smile. "Why, was that wrong?"

"Blaine, you said, 'I want the penguin to eat my ice cream,'" Kurt wheezed, completely doubled over as he laughed.

Blaine choked on his tongue. "That's definitely not right."

"She's asking you to be able to translate sentences using only the vocab from the unit. Where the hell did you even get penguin from?"

"Ah...not sure, actually. Can we maybe try conjugating instead?"

"Sure. How well do you think you remember the subjunctive."

_Uh oh. _"Um?" Kurt snorted again, and as he opened his mouth to speak, his phone went off- -Aretha Franklin's "Respect," a ringtone Blaine had long since identified as Mercedes's. "So I've got an idea. You talk to her, I'll start thinking about subjunctive verbs."

"Good stalling tactic," Kurt teased as he flipped open the phone. "Hi, baby." A pause, and the mirth drained slowly from his face. "Why do I already not like the sound of this?" Blaine shot him a worried look, but he had turned to stare out the window.

_ "_What in the actual _fuck _are you talking about?" Kurt all but shrieked into his phone. Blaine jumped, both from the sudden volume and the uncharacteristic profanity, and tried to focus on not getting them into an accident. Still, he couldn't help but watch Kurt's face peripherally, hoping it would help him understand what was happening; the countertenor's expression was darkening so rapidly that it was actually frightening. "Mercedes, are you insane? Do you have a _death wish_?"

Blaine could hear her voice, though her words were incomprehensible, but it was obvious that she was attempting to placate Kurt somehow. Based on his friend's unchanging expression, it wasn't working. "You are going to get yourselves killed," Kurt fumed. "And then I swear to God, I will...I will _bring you back to life _and kill you again!" Another pause. "I'm serious! Why did you not tell me about this earlier so I'd have time to talk sense into all of you?" It was starting to dawn on Blaine now, what might have been happening; he hoped he was wrong, if only for Kurt's sake. Whatever this was, he looked dangerously close to losing it.

"Are you- -" He groaned. "Just...will you _please_ be careful? Yes, _whatever_, just be careful!" A gusty sigh; his free hand curled into a tight fist, so hard that Blaine could see the tendons straining against the skin. _What the hell are you doing, Anderson? Drive, for God's sake. Focus. On. The driving. _"Yes, good luck, baby. Give everybody hugs and kisses for me and for the love of Gaga, tell them to stay the hell alive! ...okay. Yeah. Bye, honey, I love you." He heaved a gusty sigh and hung up. "I can't even believe them."

"Are they okay?" Blaine ventured, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible in the hopes that doing so would help calm Kurt down.

No such luck. "They, and by they I mean Rachel and the girls, got it into their heads that the only way to save the championship would be to play! Blaine, I don't think I can handle this game. I am seriously going to have a heart attack and _die _the instant something happens to one of them," he ranted, flailing a little.

"Wait, wait, the girls are playing in the championship?"

"Yes." He narrowed his eyes. "See, Blaine, this is why you have to monitor yourself in front of Rachel at all times. Because once she gets something in her head, you're screwed."

"Okay, but this isn't my fault, is it?" he asked nervously.

"Not exactly," Kurt relented. "Can we just go back to talking about French things? You still haven't taken your test, and I'd really rather not think about this."

"I don't blame you." He took one hand off the wheel and wound his fingers through Kurt's . "Don't stress, though. They'll be okay- -the guys'll do whatever they need to to protect them."

"I know." He heaved a sigh and let his head fall forward. Goddammit, he had just wanted to go see this game without having any issues with Karofsky and his merry band of assholes. Now he got to worry about the possibility of one of his completely athletically oblivious friends getting maimed, paralyzed or killed on the field? Cool. "To play a game in the subjunctive. Go."

Blaine bumbled his way through, and they passed the rest of the ride drilling verbs. It was oddly soothing for Kurt, and while it wasn't quite as much fun for Blaine, he did get a few laughs out of his own blunders (and Kurt's resultant amusement). And, of course, Kurt knew what he was doing, so that was definitely helpful.

Blaine supposed he shouldn't have been all that surprised that Kurt's parents were one hundred percent unsurprised and welcoming when they found him on their doorstep with their son. "Oh, sweetie, I didn't know you were coming!" Carole exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "It's so good to see you again!" (Because he'd seen her the day he'd helped move Kurt in; he couldn't help but be astonished that she'd remembered him, much less hugged him like she'd known him for months.)

And Burt just offered a lopsided grin and said, "Hey, Blaine, how are ya."

"Doing well, thank you sir," he answered, smiling back.

Burt nodded, mumbled, "Good, good," and promptly asked if everyone was ready to go.

* * *

Once Kurt had gotten over the shock of a football game without the Cheerios, the whole thing turned into a sort of half-comprehensible blur. Kicking for all of one game hadn't done anything to aid his understanding of how it was played, and most of the times his father had tried to explain it to him, he'd ended up accidentally tuning out. Still, he knew which players belonged to him (so to speak) and which didn't, and he cheered loudly every time it seemed like they'd done something even remotely successful. These times, unfortunately, were distressingly few and far between; much like his experience from the previous year, being on the team didn't mean the girls actually had any idea how to play. Their strategy seemed to be that as long as they stayed low and didn't move, they wouldn't be killed, and while that was true, it wasn't particularly useful in terms of the actual game.

And then all of a sudden, the teams were practically on top of one another, and the ball was bouncing innocently away. Coach Beiste was shouting at the top of her voice for someone to get the ball, and..."Oh my God, Tina's got the ball," Kurt yelped, leaping to his feet and yanking Blaine with him. "Run, Tina! Run!"

"Go, go, go!" Burt urged beside him, leaning forward eagerly.

"She's almost there, she's almost there," Blaine chanted quietly, squeezing Kurt's hand tight- -and then one of the behemoths in green and white tackled her. Kurt let out a choked gasp, his grip on Blaine tightening so much that it was almost painful.

"She's not moving," he muttered desperately. "Oh, God, why isn't she moving?"

"She's going to be okay," Blaine assured him as the team medics hurried onto the field. But Kurt wasn't listening, and didn't even seem to breathe until he saw Tina struggle to her feet, Mike's arm firm around her for support. Only then did Kurt let out a soft groan, dropping heavily back onto the bleachers.

"I think that just took ten years off my life."

"Look on the bright side- -you'll be able to recover during the halftime show."

"True." Without thinking, he buried his face in Blaine's shoulder. "Can you just let me know if something exciting is going to happen?"

Blaine chuckled. "Sure."

Fortunately for both of them, though, absolutely nothing of note happened before halftime. "Oh, thank God," Kurt breathed, finally relaxing for the first time since the game started. "That was the longest hour of my _life_." He squinted. "...is that Santana? I thought they ditched!"

"They're starting!" Blaine exclaimed leaning forward.

"They mashed up 'Thriller'?" Kurt laughed proudly. "I shouldn't even be surprised."

"Oh my _God_," Blaine kept muttering, his jaw hanging open. "Oh my God, this is insane."

His friends were obviously in their element, and in looking out at the field, Kurt realized that yes, the Cheerio trio _had _dared to abandon Coach Sylvester right before nationals. It seemed to have brought them all together, because they were even better than usual. He beamed, swelling with pride- -and then he caught sight of a lone figure, yanking a football jersey over his head as he jogged onto the field.

"Is that- -"

"Karofsky," he mouthed, heart sinking. He'd been hoping his tormentor wouldn't show or something. But there he was, dancing and singing with most of the people Kurt loved most in the world, as though he hadn't a care in the world. And he looked...happy.

Blaine's hand found Kurt's, and Kurt tore his eyes away. No. Karofsky would not ruin this, too. He had done enough, and Kurt would _not _let him have this moment. He tore his eyes away, focusing on everyone else, and when the performance was over, he leapt to his feet and cheered as loudly as he could. And Blaine was right there with him, whooping and still looking a little shell-shocked. "They're ridiculous," he told Kurt, eyes shining. "That was phenomenal."

"I love them," Kurt answered simply, smiling.

To his relief, there was no repeat of the Tina situation in the second half of the game. But not too many good things happened, either, and toward the end of the game, a frustrated-looking Coach Beiste called McKinley's final time-out. "There's no hope, is there?" he asked, watching the team slink off to the sidelines.

"There's a chance," Burt put in, eyes glued to the players. "They're only behind by three."

He clutched Blaine's hand as the teams faced each other; and then, all of a sudden, he heard them start to moan. "What...?"

But he didn't have to wait long to find out. Their cries spread to the stands in moments, and before long, Kurt was yelling, "Brains! Braiiiiiiiiiiins!" with the rest of them. The opposing team looked as though they had quite literally no idea what was going on, and Kurt cackled as he heard his father, Carole, and Blaine joining in. And he was so focused on keeping the other team distracted that he didn't even realize McKinley had scored until the stands erupted around him. "They won!" Blaine yelled, jumping up and down as he cheered. "Kurt, they won!"

"Oh my God!" Kurt yelped, throwing his arms around Blaine completely on instinct.

The other boy laughed, holding him tight. "God, what a game."

"Let's go see them," Kurt commanded immediately, all but towing Blaine down the bleachers and onto the field. Apparently completely unfazed by the fact that every one of his major tormentors was present, he dove directly into the fray. Blaine was worried for a second, before he noticed how seamlessly New Directions incorporated them into their number, folding Kurt into a cocoon of warm hugs and exclamations of love.

They reveled in the triumph for a while, and then, at some point, someone decided the celebration needed to move to another venue.

"Victory party at Breadstix!" Santana yelled, and, as one, New Directions and the football team whooped delightedly. Kurt went pale and reached out for Mercedes at once. "Bye, beautiful, I'll call you later, okay?" he babbled quickly, pecking her on the cheek. "You guys were glorious, as expected, full discussion tomorrow after Warbler rehearsal."

She clucked her tongue sympathetically and practically smothered him in a hug; Finn, still glowing with triumph, whirled around. "Wait, dude, you're not coming? You have to come!"

"I'm too tired, I think," Kurt gritted out, glancing pointedly in Karofsky's direction.

"But babyyyy..." Brittany pouted, draping herself over his shoulder. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"It's been two weeks, Britt," he pointed out, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, too, to make up for the slight edge in his voice.

"Please?" she wheedled, widening her eyes in her best puppy-dog expression. "Please please please? You can even bring your dolphin if you want to."

Blaine did a double take. "Your what?"

"She means you. Long story, I'll explain later. Thing is, boo, we carpooled with Dad and Carole," he hedged helplessly, and Puck tapped him on the shoulder.

"Dude," he muttered. "If it's Karofsky and those assholes you're worried about, don't. We're not even gonna sit with them or anything. Plus if any of them tries anything, it'll just give us an excuse to beat the shit out of them."

"And I can drive you!" Finn added, beaming.

Blaine, without even _looking _at Kurt, sensed his resolve wavering and murmured, "I'm game if you are. And if you're not, I can make some excuse and get us out of here, but either way, we'll be okay."

But Kurt _was _tired, incredibly tired, of living in fear. So he drew a deep breath and let the words out with the air. "Let's go to Breadstix."

Another huge cheer, this one from every member of New Directions. Kurt was too busy laughing at his friends' antics to notice a few of the football players glancing over. Blaine wasn't.

And, standing a few feet away, but still close enough to have heard his son's proclamation, neither was Burt. Sam had somehow ended up on the outskirts of the group, and, noticing the man's preoccupation, he edged closer. "Mr. Hummel?"

Burt blinked. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to worry," he said, a little awkwardly. "About Kurt tonight, I mean. We're not gonna let anything happen to him."

"I appreciate that," Burt mumbled gruffly. "But- -"

"Hey, Mom, Burt, we're all gonna go to Breadstix!" Finn exclaimed. "We won't be too late."

Burt groaned, and as, with one last tentative smile, the blonde kid who'd been talking to him disappeared into the crowd, he reached out and snagged Finn's sleeve. "Watch your brother," he warned. "I don't like this whole thing, but for some reason, Kurt wants to go. So keep an eye out."

"We will," Finn promised earnestly, with a lopsided grin. Burt glanced over at Kurt, who was laughing at Tina and Mike's exaggerated reenactment of Tina's epic moment of athletic stardom.

"Don't, don't, too soon," he managed, cackling and hugging Tina. "I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack!"

"So, cool?"

"Yeah," Burt replied distantly. "Cool."

"See you!" Finn exclaimed delightedly. "Kurt, we're leaving!"

"Dude, shotgun!" Puck yelped, loping across the entire parking lot in a few huge strides.

Kurt couldn't find it in himself to care- -actually, he was almost tempted to thank Puck for giving him a valid reason to sit in the back with Blaine. Not that he expected anything to happen, but...still.

His hand bumped Blaine's accidentally as he moved to buckle his seatbelt, and the other boy sucked in a breath. "God, Kurt, your hands are freezing."

"Yes, well, we suffer for fashion," he stated mock-primly, and Blaine snorted and reached out.

"C'mere, you."

He grinned despite himself and allowed Blaine to take his hands. "Thanks," he whispered, a little unsteadily, and Blaine just grinned.

"Hey, I have gloves, so I'm warm. Least I can do."

As it turned out, Kurt didn't really have to worry about what would happen at Breadstix. As Puck had promised, the non-glee jocks stayed far away, and the glee boys sat near Blaine and Kurt, creating a sort of protective barrier on the off chance that any of the bullies planned to try anything. He allowed himself to relax as much as he could and enjoy the company of his friends; and they kept him in stitches until he happened to check his phone and realize how late it really was.

"Hey, Finn? I don't want to be 'that guy' or whatever, but Blaine and I have to get back to- -to school," he faltered, stopping himself from mentioning Dalton by name just as Karofsky ambled by on his way to the bathroom. Blaine, observant as always, found his knee under the table and squeezed comfortingly.

"Oh, it's cool," Finn assured him, getting up. "Puck. Dude, you coming back with us, or what?"

"Nah, I think I'll hang out for a while. See ya." He saluted Kurt lazily, who just smirked and went about saying his goodbyes.

He sat in the back with Blaine on the way home again, and to his absolute astonishment, Finn didn't ask why he hadn't taken shotgun. "Are you coming in?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow when they walked to the front door with him.

"Yeah, real quick. I just wanna say goodnight to Dad and Carole. Do you mind?" he asked Blaine.

"Not at all."

"Cool," Finn replied, grinning and swinging the door open. "Mom! Burt! We're home!"

"Did you have fun?" Carole called from the family room; Finn bounded in, tugging Kurt with him like an overexcited puppy. Kurt grabbed Blaine's sleeve to keep him from getting left out in the cold.

"Yeah, it was so amazing," he rambled. "I still can't believe we actually won. It's so crazy, you know?"

"We're real proud of you, Finn," Burt answered gruffly, smiling. "Real proud."

"Thanks," he answered, beaming and accepting his mother's embrace

Burt caught his son's eye and smiled slightly. "Scooter, if you two just want to stay the night, I can drive you back tomorrow morning."

You two. _You two. _His dad was actually offering to let Blaine stay over. And he was _really _tempted to take him up on it, but to get back for first block, that would mean leaving the house at around six. And Kurt just couldn't accept that. "I would love that, Dad, but I don't think I can deal with waking up that early."

"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hummel. It's really not a problem for me to drive, though."

"Just be careful, alright?" Burt cautioned

"Of course, sir."

"I'll call you when we get there, okay? Don't worry, we'll be fine." And, with one last hug to each of his family members and one more hearty congratulations to Finn, he headed back to Dalton with Blaine.

They'd been in the car about five minutes before Kurt's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, dude," Paul greeted him, sounding oddly guilty. "Uh, are you coming home tonight?"

"...yes. Why?"

"Uh. I just. Well. Just won- -"

"Paul," Kurt interrupted, lifting a suspicious eyebrow, "do you want me to stay with Blaine tonight?"

"Would you mind?" he asked, sounding endlessly relieved. "Because, I mean, if you mind, we can just...go to Maddie's- -"

"Lalalalala, too much information," Kurt sang, wincing. "Just...stay on your side of the room and I don't care what you do."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"You are the _best_," Paul blurted fervently. "Seriously. I owe you _huge_."

"Don't worry about it. Just, uh...have a good...I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up without waiting for Paul to respond. "...I think I just got sexiled."

Blaine snorted. Loudly. "_What_?"

"Okay, yeah, I _definitely_ just got sexiled."

"If you need a place to stay, my room's always open," Blaine offered laughingly. "Jim won't care."

"Are you sure?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked; if Blaine were, in a completely uncharacteristic moment, to change his mind, it wasn't as though he'd have somewhere else to go.

"Yeah, absolutely." He grinned. "My phone's in the glove compartment if you want to text him."

"What, from your phone?"

"Oh, God, wait, don't. He'll be an asshole if he thinks it's me...I mean, he really, definitely isn't going to mind, it's just, well. You've met him. He likes to torture me."

"So we'll just surprise him, then?"

"Yep. That's the best way to go."

"Cool." Silence fell for a while, and then Kurt muttered, "Thanks for coming with me."

"What, to the game? Please. You know how I feel about football. Besides..." he braked at a red light and caught Kurt's eye, "I wanted you to know that you'd be safe. I wanted you to be able to go see them."

Kurt worried his lower lip, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know, and I appreciate that."

Blaine smiled. "Don't worry, okay? You look like you're overthinking something."

"Maybe a little," Kurt admitted, sighing. "You know, I feel bad that you somehow always end up driving me everywhere." It was hardly the top of his list of concerns, but he felt like he needed to say _something_, and this wasn't the place to discuss what was really on his mind. "If you won't even let me give you gas money, can I at least drive every once in a while?"

Blaine arced an eyebrow. "You drove the other day, remember?"

"I know. But...eh."

"That's really what you were thinking about?"

"Partly."

"Kurt..." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Anytime you want to do _anything_, just tell me, okay? It's fine."

The sincerity in his voice made Kurt's heart hurt. "Okay. I- -thank you."

* * *

When Kurt and Blaine walked into the room at one in the morning, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, Jim would have made an obnoxious comment- -in fact, one had already sprung fully-formed into his mind and was begging to be released. But the thing was, Kurt looked exhausted and overwhelmed and just generally _sad_; and Blaine was watching him with previously uncharted levels of concern. So he kept his mouth shut. "Thanks," Kurt muttered, still hovering kind of awkwardly near Blaine's bed (which would have been funny if he wasn't obviously under some kind of duress, because it wasn't like he and Blaine hadn't slept in the same bed before).

"No problem," he answered, shooting Kurt his most charming grin.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Blaine piped up suddenly. "You can, um...my pajamas are on the second shelf of the closet if you want to borrow something." And before Kurt could even gather his thoughts enough to reply, he and his stuff had disappeared down the hall. _Oh my God, I'm going to be wearing Blaine's clothes. _This was a thing that Kurt had so not considered, and he was way more interested in it than he should have been, particularly considering his current mindset. He glanced over at Jim uncertainly, but the other boy was quite pointedly not looking at him. Comforted, Kurt tentatively chose a pair of sweatpants and the first random t-shirt his hand fell on. (First and only time Kurt Hummel would ever dress so carelessly, but he felt kind of awkward about digging through Blaine's stuff. Especially with Jim right there.) He changed quickly, hiding behind the closet door even though he trusted Jim entirely (the irony of his being _in the closet _was not lost on him, thanks), and then curled up on the end of Blaine's bed and called his dad.

"'Lo?"

"Hi Dad. We're back safe."

"Good." Burt cleared his throat. "You okay, kid? You sound a little upset."

Kurt swallowed hard. "I'm just tired. It's been a pretty busy day, so I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Alright. Good night. Hey, I love you, Kurt."

"Love you too, Dad," he managed, his voice cracking; and he hung up and closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress the emotion.

Jim glanced over at him worriedly, wondering if he should say anything. He wanted to help, but he was kind of concerned that he'd only end up making it worse, so he bit his lip and kept silent. Blaine returned from the bathroom fully dressed- -another thing that Jim ordinarily would have made a snide comment about, considering that it almost never happened, but in this situation, it just felt like it would have been excessively douchey. "Hey, today wasn't so bad, was it? he coaxed softly, sitting down next to Kurt and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Kurt's lips were pressed tight together, and he was blinking faster than normal; Blaine didn't press him to respond right away. He'd talk when he was ready. And sure enough, Kurt knew, absolutely knew, that if he tried to keep all this inside, it was going to destroy him. So he swallowed hard and blurted out, "I'm so _tired_, Blaine. I- -he- -he threatened to _kill _me, he made my life hell for _months_, and now..."

Hearing Kurt talk about his situation now, like this, hit Blaine like a jolt, even though he'd already heard about it. He fought the urge to just pull the other boy into his arms and just hold him- -but he couldn't, and he knew that well. He'd been where Kurt was enough times to realize that Kurt just needed to let it all out.

"...now that he's succeeded in _chasing me out_, there he is, partying it up with my friends like he never even did anything wrong. Meanwhile, I'm terrified to even go to my brother's first championship game because I'm afraid of what he'll _do _to me. How is this fair?" He shook his head, hard. "I'm- -I'm sorry, I don't mean to..."

"Hey, stop," Blaine interrupted tenderly. "You don't have to _justify _yourself, Kurt. It's me, remember? I'm the last person who's going to judge you."

But Kurt's eyes were damp, his breath coming in quick, short gasps; it occurred to Blaine that he was looking at someone who had gotten very good at suppressing his emotions. Since the first time they'd met, this was the closest Blaine had ever come to seeing Kurt cry- -even when Kurt had been struggling to adjust to life at Dalton, even after they'd confronted Karofsky on the steps of McKinley, he'd been more controlled than this. And seeing Kurt so defeated...it _killed _him. "C'mere," he whispered, opening his arms. Kurt went to him willingly, pressing his face into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine could feel him fisting handfuls of his t-shirt tightly and recognized it for what it was- -a last-ditch attempt to pull it together. "It's okay," he murmured, rubbing Kurt's back tenderly. "Just let it out, it's okay."

And for the first time in God knew how long, Kurt Hummel let himself cry.

For a while, Blaine just held him while he wept; at some point, over Kurt's shoulder, he noticed Jim get up and steal quietly out of the room. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly, still kind of massaging Kurt's back. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay."

* * *

It was days later, long after Kurt had calmed down and returned to his normal, collected self, that Jeff tracked his roommate down in the library. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

Nick's head jerked up, and he glanced cagily around the commons. Now he wanted to talk about it? _Now_, in public, when he was finally starting to get okay at communicating with Jeff without letting the pain show?

"What are you talking about? Of course not."

"We haven't really talked since New Year's," Jeff protested lowly, and then it hit him. "Is this about...what happened? Because if it made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to, you know me better than that. If you didn't- -you should've just told me you didn't want to- -"

"I can't do this here," Nick blurted, shoving his chair back from the table and abandoning his stuff entirely in his quest to escape.

"Nick, come on," Jeff pleaded, trotting after him. "I really miss you, you know? Will you just _talk _to me?"

"Yes, okay? It's about what happened," he exploded finally, falling back against the wall and sliding down until he hit the floor.

"Look, I'm sorry! I just, I don't know, I wasn't thinking, I guess. But- -"

"That's what you don't get, though," Nick mumbled brokenly. "I wanted you to be thinking about it."

"Wh-what?"

Emotion clogged Nick's throat, and he dug his nails into his palms to try to suppress it. "I'm in love with you, you idiot." He had meant it to come out lighter, meant it to be almost playful, in a desperate attempt to conceal how close he was to coming apart at the seams. Except that it ended up coming out ragged, bitter.

A beat of silence, and then Jeff dropped heavily to the ground beside him. "How long?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not, but..."

"Can you just- -can I just ask you one thing?"

"I think I just need, like, a _second_," Jeff whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "And then you can ask me whatever you want. It's just...it's kind of a lot to take in."

Nick fell silent, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin against them. Jeff drew a few low, steady breaths before he met his friend's gaze once more. "Okay. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I just kinda blindsided you."

"Nick, thing is, I think...I think I fucked up."

Hope, so sudden that it left him breathless. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I talked about on my date with Kurt? You." His lips twitched up into a half smile. "How it was your shirt I was wearing. How you're my best friend." His voice dropped, low and earnest. "How I've been really worried about you lately because you've seemed...upset. But I didn't want to push you into talking about it unless you wanted to."

"What'd he say to you?"

"Told me not to give up on you." Gently, he put his hand atop Nick's. "I think he knew all along. And it took me until New Year's to realize, but...we could be something, Nick."

"Why didn't you say something back then?" His heart was ballooning, and he squeezed Jeff's hand, trying to temper the ecstacy, just in case this was all too good to be true and he was only moments away from waking up.

"Because I was afraid. Because you weren't talking to me, and I didn't want to risk losing you for good over it. It was killing me when we weren't talking." He was tracing little patterns in the back of Nick's hand, and it was getting really hard to focus.

"R-really?"

"Can you forgive me?" His voice was barely a whisper now. "Will you...will you take a chance with me?" These weren't the sorts of things they were used to saying, _ever_. It made him uncomfortable, saying them now, but he genuinely couldn't think of another way to express himself.

And Nick seriously couldn't even think straight right now, so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed him.

**2: See, something got resolved! Finally! **

**I'm really sorry these past few chapters have been such angst-fests, you guys. (Also, this one's friggin' _monstrously _long. I don't know what the deal is with that.) But I promise, there's a reason for it.**

**On the other hand though...I would be so happy if you guys would drop me some fluff!drabble prompts. All this drama is messing with my head. My tumblr ask box is always open! (And that way you'll get them faster than if you ask me via review or PM, because I check tumblr shameful amounts of times daily...)**

**AND THERE IS ANOTHER POLL ON MY AUTHOR PAGE. Check that out and be awesome, mmkay? :D**

**Much love.**


	12. Who Even Is That?

**Hi guys! I promised weekly updates, so here it is. :) It got away from me a little, so this isn't the entirety of Silly Love Songs, and I'm sorry for that. But I wanted to show that there was at least somewhat of a reason for Jeremiah to happen, and that's why it got a little more...extended than I'd planned. Also, there's no Neff, because I couldn't fit it in without it being too random. **

**Remember, my ask box is always open to drabble requests, and as always, a thousand thanks for your support. *huggles wonderful people***

**AND THANK YOU TO INFAMMOUS, WHO IS TRANSLATING "NO REGRETS" INTO PORTUGUESE FOR ME. YOU'RE AMAZING. :) **

_Want to go to the Lima Bean for coffee?_

Blaine had texted it to Kurt right when he woke up, suspecting that his friend would already be awake; but he'd been dressed for a while, dawdling over getting ready, and his phone remained stubbornly silent. Deciding that he couldn't wait any longer if he wanted to have any hope of getting the caffeine fix he so desperately needed, he went to knock on Kurt's door.

"He's in the shower," Paul reported. "Apparently Pavarotti snuck out of his cage in the middle of the night and somehow managed to turn off Kurt's alarm, so he overslept."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, Paul."

"No prob. Did you want me to tell him something?"

"No, it's okay. I'll just see him in class." He smiled. "Thanks, though."

He saluted. "I'll see you."

When the door had shut, Blaine sighed and checked his phone. He'd have to hurry if he didn't want to be late.

Unfortunately for him, he'd only had his drink for a few minutes before someone slammed into him from behind, spilling his overfilled cup everywhere. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, fine," he muttered, grimacing and shrugging out of his coffee-soaked blazer. He'd have to find time to take it to the dry cleaner's now. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

"Well, I- -wait, _Blaine_?"

He looked at the person for the first time, and his jaw fell open slightly. "Jeremiah?"

He'd met the good-looking blonde about a month ago, at the mall. Wes's parents had conned their son into taking his sister to the mall, and he'd begged Blaine to go. He'd gotten distracted at the music store and ended up accidentally running into some stranger. They'd gotten to talking, and hit it off immediately- -Jeremiah had been smooth and completely friendly, and when he'd asked for Blaine's number, Blaine hadn't thought twice about giving it to him. They'd been texting pretty regularly for the past couple of weeks, and they'd even gone out for coffee once. But even though Jeremiah had admitted that he was gay, Blaine hadn't bothered hoping that anything would happen between them; Jeremiah was older- -ironic, and charming, and completely self-confident. And Blaine just couldn't imagine what interest someone like that could have in a prep-school boy like himself.

"Hi," Jeremiah smiled. "I can get you a new one, if you want. Do you have time?"

"Unfortunately not," he sighed regretfully, "but it's really okay. I appreciate the offer."

"What about tonight?" He lifted one eyebrow, lips curving up in a charming half-smile. "I feel really bad. Besides, then we can catch up."

Blaine's heart flipped. "I'd like that."

"I'll meet you here at seven," he said, and then walked out, leaving a dumbfounded Blaine to stare after him, trying to figure out what had even just happened.

* * *

"I think I have a date tonight."

Wes choked on his water; David dropped his pen. "Excuse?"

"I think I have a date tonight," Blaine repeated, completely unfazed by their obvious lack of enthusiasm.

"With _who_?" Wes demanded, abandoning the worksheet he'd been rushing through in the few minutes they had before first block.

"Jeremiah," he answered promptly, a bright grin lighting his face.

"Who the hell is Jeremiah?"

That brought Blaine up short. "I told you about him! Don't you remember? Right before school, at the mall with your sister?"

"...you have literally _never _told us about that," David commented. "You've got to change your blazer in the next five seconds, unless you want to walk around covered in coffee all day."

"I have, too," Blaine protested, taking the jacket that Wes offered him. It wasn't his size, but it would have to do, because he _so _wasn't in the mood to run back to his room.

"Okay, fine, you did. I claim amnesia caused by my sister's complete insanity, and you probably told David while he was playing Call of Duty or something."

"Probably," Blaine agreed, still too happy at the idea of his first date in _way _too long to bother protesting.

* * *

"He never mentioned anything about this kid, did he?" David muttered, when they had separated to go to class.

"Nope," Wes sighed, flopping heavily into a chair. "And you know what the worst part is? We can't even point out how ridiculous he's being, because he's managed to delude himself into thinking he actually has a thing for the guy. So now we have to pretend to be supportive."

"_We_ do," David whispered, surreptitiously taking out his phone and firing off a quick text, "but Jim doesn't."

"You are a genius."

"So they tell me."

* * *

"So, roomie, where you off to?" Jim asked nonchalantly later that evening. "Also, why does it smell like a coffee shop exploded in this room?"

"Long story," Blaine replied distractedly, picking invisible lint off his sweater. "Does this look okay?"

"...why are you asking _me_? When did I ever give any indication of being good at that shit?"

"Why are you so pissy?"

"Not pissy. Do we still have cookies in here somewhere? I'm starving."

"Yeah, in my desk. What time is it?"

"...5:30. Going somewhere?" He lifted his head, stopping his search for his Oreos, and arched an eyebrow. _We'll get to the point eventually. _

_ "_Lima Bean," he answered, grinning widely. "In half an hour."

"Considering that this room smells like an enormous coffee bean, do you really need more caffeine, Blainey?"

"Why does everyone keep _calling _me that?" he complained. "Besides, it's not that bad in here."

"I'm just busting on ya," he laughed, getting up for the sole purpose of ruffling Blaine's hair. "Also, I'm concerned about the extreme caffeine addiction you apparently have now."

"I'm meeting Jeremiah," he answered, with some pride.

Jim's eyebrows shot up. "_Who_ the fuck?"

"None of you remember me telling you about him!"

"...because you didn't."

"Well, whatever," he replied cheerfully. "I've got to go in a few minutes."

"Wait, is this like, a date situation?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"You're an idiot, you know."

"_What?_"

He groaned. This was not going to end up anywhere pleasant. "You know what, forget it. I'll talk to you when you get back."

"No, what?"

"I've seen the way you look at Kurt, you know? I get that you're, like, having issues accepting it or whatever, but chasing after some random-ass guy isn't going to help you get the hell over it."

Stung, Blaine recoiled. "Not everything is about Kurt. I really think I could like this guy!"

"You don't _know _him."

"What, you're Mr. Maturity now?" he demanded. "I've been talking to him for weeks. It's not like he's some stranger."

"This is why I didn't want to talk about this before you left. I'm so not in the mood to fight with you right now."

Blaine shook his head. "I'm just gonna go. I'll see you later."

He sat heavily on his bed, closing his eyes. "Have fun, then." Once Blaine had been gone for a few minutes, Jim stuffed a cookie into his mouth, figuring he'd desperately need the energy, and banged on the wall. "Open the door, I'm coming over."

"From what I heard, that didn't go too well."

"The correct answer is 'fucking mess,' actually." He shoved a pile of clothes off the foot of Wes's bed and sat. "Here's the thing, though. I think I figured this out. A little over a week ago, they came back from Lima, and Kurt just...fell apart. It was _bad_. And I have no idea, 'coz I figured it was none of my damn business, but I think that's why this bullshit Jeremiah thing is even happening. Because I was talking to him a few days later and he mentioned something about Kurt needing to take time and heal. Seemed really worried about it."

"Oh, shit, he's doing the self-sacrifice thing and convincing himself he doesn't want what he wants." Wes facepalmed. "See, this is why we always have to get involved. Because if we didn't, he'd try to be noble all the time and never stop screwing himself over."

Jim grimaced. "Whatever, I guess all we can do is hope the date sucks."

"As bad as that sounds, it might be the best thing that could happen." David sighed. "Til then, we just have to make sure he doesn't accidentally break Kurt's heart."

Except that when Blaine came back, he was completely starry-eyed. "He's so mature," he announced, throwing himself onto his bed and grinning dopily up at the ceiling. "And independent, and...cool. I have no idea what he sees in me...I feel like such a naive, prep-school _kid _compared to him."

"...and this is what you consider a good date?" Jim asked skeptically.

"Well, he doesn't look down on me or anything. He was just so _great_. He has all these fascinating opinions about things, and he was a complete gentleman, and...ugh, I can't explain it right. We just...clicked. You know what I mean?"

_No, I don't. You're being insane. _"So did he kiss you?"

The light in Blaine's eyes dimmed a little. "No."

"Did he mention anything about going on another date?"

He wilted further. "Not...exactly. But he was really sweet, and he said he'd text me, so I think maybe there's a chance. Oh!" Brightening considerably, he snapped his fingers. "When we were talking, it came up that he usually doesn't like to make the first move! So maybe he's just hoping that I'll do something." His mind was made up, and Jim recognized that nothing he was going to say was going to make a hint of difference.

Blaine spent the majority of his free time over the next few days trying to figure out what he should do, and by the week before Valentine's Day, he was pretty sure he had decided on something. But this was hardly the sort of thing he was used to doing, and there was no way he was going to be able to do it on his own. He needed to talk to someone who would give him an honest opinion.

He needed Kurt.

* * *

"Okay, I'm all for flair, but these Valentine's Day decorations are just tacky. I mean, what the hell is this supposed to be?" Kurt groused, snatching up a pillow adorned with two cuddling stuffed puppies, wearing an expression eerily similar to the time he'd caught Blaine wearing shoes from Target. Damn, he'd almost managed to forget that Valentine's Day even existed this year, but apparently the employers of the Lima Bean had decided, sometime in the last twenty-four hours, that he needed a reminder.

"It's _clearly _puppy love." Blaine grinned, tugging the pillow free of his grasp and looking fondly down at the plushies. "It's cute. Come on."

Kurt pulled a disgusted face and reached out gingerly- -as Blaine deposited it back into his hands, his finger brushed some hidden button, making the ridiculous-looking puppies bounce, squeaking, "I wuv you!" His eyes widened. "Oh. Okay, this is creepy."

Blaine, for some reason that he would never understand, was still beaming happily at the toy. "Adorable," he contradicted.

Kurt shuddered. He didn't _hate _Valentine's Day, per se, but it wasn't as though he'd ever had a particularly good one, either. And anyway, why did there have to be a day whose only purpose seemed to be to make single people feel even worse about their perpetual aloneness? "It's just a simple excuse to sell candy and greeting cards on a holiday," he objected, dropping the plushes as though they were burning.

"Not true," Blaine protested. "People have been celebrating Valentine's Day for centuries. And call me a hopeless romantic, but it's my favorite holiday."

"Really." Kurt arched an eyebrow. That was probably the _last _thing he'd expected.

Blaine bounced a little on the balls of his feet. Cynic or not, he was _going _to get Kurt's opinion on this epic plan. "I think there's something really great about a day where you're encouraged to just lay it all on the line and say to somebody..." he held Kurt's gaze, eyes bright "...I'm in love with you."

Kurt all but choked on his own tongue. _Oh, God, if only._

But Blaine was too wrapped up in his own ideas that he didn't notice Kurt's preoccupation. "You know? And this year I want to do something really radical, so I want your opinion on this." Kurt leaned in, hoping that doing so would be enough to imply that he had no intention of letting his attention waver. Because he still hadn't quite managed to catch his breath yet, and his heart was still beating just a little too fast for him to actually be able to use his words.

"There's this guy I sort of...like," Blaine admitted, abruptly nervous adjusting his blazer for the sake of having something to do with his hands. "I've only known him for a little while, but I want to tell him that I'm starting to think that my feelings are starting to change into something...deeper.

"So I have to ask: do you think it's too much to sing to someone on Valentine's Day?"

"Not at all," Kurt breathed, after a deeply lengthy pause during which he tried to figure out if he was dreaming, dying, or unconscious and inventing the entire thing in his comatose stupor, because _oh my God. _Blaine was...he was basically _admitting..._

It was too much. His heart was going to explode and then he was going to die before Blaine could even sing to him.

"What can I get you?" the barista asked, effectively shattering Kurt's trance.

"A medium drip, and a nonfat mocha for this guy," Blaine replied, smiling charmingly at her. Kurt's mouth fell open as Blaine shot him a playful look and added, "And maybe I can convince him to split one of those Cupid cookies."

"...you know my coffee order?" Kurt managed, brain still stuck on the casual way Blaine had said it, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though _of course_ he would know such small, mundane things about Kurt's life. The Cupid thing hadn't even registered yet.

"Of course I do," Blaine answered, echoing Kurt's thoughts and looking at him like, _duh_.

"That'll be $8.40," the barista announced, looking amused.

Kurt reached for his messenger bag to dig for his wallet, but Blaine shook his head. "Don't even bother, dummy, this one's on me." He handed the girl a ten dollar bill, smiling again. "Keep the change." And he breezed away with his drink, leaving Kurt to beam at the barista.

"I do believe I have a new favorite holiday."

"You two are adorable," she murmured conspiratorially, handing him his drink and the cookie.

Kurt practically floated over to the table Blaine had chosen, and almost before he could sit down, Blaine was speaking again. "You really don't think it's a stupid idea?"

"Singing? Of course not." He handed Blaine the cookie, smiling enormously. "What were you thinking of doing?"

He shrugged, breaking the cookie in half and holding the slightly bigger piece out for Kurt. The countertenor tried to wave him off, but he pouted. "C'mon, please? I know you didn't eat breakfast, and I don't want the whole thing."

"How d'you know I didn't eat anything?"

"I'm psychic." He laughed, giddy. "Actually, I don't know, will you help me pick a song?"

_He wants to make sure it's a song I like_, Kurt thought happily, finally taking the cookie and breaking off a piece without even paying attention to what he was doing. "Sure. But, I mean...it really depends on how _you_ feel, you know? It's about the message that you want to send."

"That I like him. A lot," Blaine answered promptly, stuffing half his cookie into his mouth at once.

Kurt's heart skipped a beat. "I think I got that part," he said playfully, nudging Blaine's foot under the table.

Eyes dancing, Blaine kicked him lightly back. "Kurt Hummel, are you trying to play footsie with me?"

"Maybe," he answered, daring to be bold.

Blaine just grinned and sipped his coffee. "Seriously, though, if it were you...what would you want someone to sing?"

Kurt choked on his coffee. "Wh-what?" he spluttered, when he'd cleared the mocha from his lungs.

Blaine reddened slightly. "I was just wondering if I should go with something cute and romantic, or maybe, like, fun and sexy. But like I said, I don't know this guy very well, so I don't know what he'd like."

"Well," Kurt began, regarding Blaine archly through his lashes even as his heart hammered so hyperactively in his chest that he was almost sure Blaine could hear it, "if it were me, I'd probably want you to lean more toward cute and romantic." _But if you want to sing something sexy, you feel free. By all means._

He seemed to be contemplating this, and he nodded slowly. "Cool. Thanks."

* * *

Kurt had never been the type to cover his notebooks with lovesick doodles. But maybe that was just because he'd never had a real crush (he'd decided that Finn _so _didn't count), because he had totally just spent the last fifteen minutes covering the free pages of his French notebook with variations of _Kurt & Blaine forever. _At the moment, he was working at an enormous doodle of a heart with their names in the middle, wearing a silly grin that he couldn't have wiped off his face even if he'd wanted to.

"Hey."

_Shit_. Startled, he slammed the notebook shut before Blaine could look. Fortunately, he seemed too excited to pay much attention to Kurt's twitchiness. "Whatcha doing?"

_Oh, you know. Just planning our future. _His face was burning- -he probably looked like a firetruck for God's sake. But he couldn't even care, because the conversation from that morning was still fresh in his mind, and... and what if this was the moment? Blaine looked so excited. Maybe it really was about to happen! "Nothin'," he replied cheerfully. "Just, uh, daydreaming. Planning weekend outfits." _Or maybe I'm thinking about how perfect it's going to be when you serenade me._

"Well, c'mon," Blaine coaxed. "You're gonna want to see this. I called an emergency meeting of the Warblers council."

"Sounds serious," Kurt replied, working hard to squash the flock of gleeful butterflies rising in his stomach.

The moment he stood, Blaine grabbed his shoulders and quite literally steered him down the hallway. "Let's hope not. I just have to ask the council a tiny, little favor." Kurt could hear the enthusiasm in his voice, and it made a smile spread across his own face.

"Does this have anything to do with your plot to...to sing to your crush?" _Oh my God, it's about to happen. He's called a _special meeting _just for this!_

"Possibly," Blaine answered coyly. "I think I've picked the song, but I can't do it on my own."

He didn't seem to notice or care that he hadn't let go of Kurt yet as they entered the choir room- -but then again, neither did the rest of the Warblers. Most of them were too wrapped up in trying to figure out what they were all doing there; and as Blaine led him to an empty spot on the couch, Kurt noticed that Nick and Jeff were sitting even closer together than usual, their fingers just barely brushing. He made a mental note to ask Jeff about it later and then settled on the edge of his seat, hands folded, the very picture of composure. _Yeah. Right._

Wes banged the gavel. "This emergency meeting is called to order," he announced, and the room gradually silenced. "Junior member Blaine Anderson, the floor is yours."

Kurt's delight spilled over, and he clapped excitedly as Blaine stood; a few of the others shot him strange looks, so he stopped, all but quivering with expectation.

"Esteemed council, I'll be brief," Blaine began. "Simply put...I'm in love."

Kurt could not, for the life of him, have stopped the ridiculous, infatuated grin from taking over his face. He was certain that his entire countenance had changed in that moment, and dammit, he didn't care. Because Blaine said _love. He _loves _me! _The other Warblers whooped happily, and even David piped up, "Congrats."

Kurt had no way of knowing, but in that moment, under the table, Wes stomped hard on David's foot in a _what are you doing, idiot? _gesture. David shot him an almost imperceptible glare- -_calm the hell down, we have to at least pretend to be supportive- -_and went back to watching Blaine, who was still groping for words. "I'm not really good at talking about my feelings. I'm much better at singing them," Blaine confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "But still, I could use a little help. Which is why I'm asking the Warblers to help serenade this individual...off campus." Kurt blinked, surprised, as the Warblers exploded into angry denials. _Not that that wouldn't be absolutely amazing, _he thought, a little dreamily, _but if they're objecting so strongly, he could do it right here, right now, and I'd be just as happy._

Wes was practically attacking the desk with his gavel, glaring daggers at Blaine. It seemed a major overreaction to Kurt, but Blaine didn't look overly surprised- -disappointed, frustrated, yes. Surprised, no. "I know what I'm asking is slightly unusual- -" he tried, but Wes cut him off.

"The Warblers haven't performed in an informal setting since 1927, when the Spirit of St. Louis overshot the tarmac and plowed through seven Warblers during an impromptu rendition of 'Welcome to Ohio, Luck Lindy,'" Wes snapped, and David pressed his fingers into his wrist in silent approval. They could still stop this before anything got irreparably damaged.

"I firmly believe that our reticence to perform in public nearly cost us a trip to regionals!" Blaine exclaimed, switching tactics in his desperation. "We're becoming privileged porcelain birds perched on a shelf!"

"I don't have to listen to this," David put in, leaping to his feet for dramatic effect. Some of the others were joining in, too, though both Wes and David suspected that most of them really _did _take issue with the idea of performing outside of a competition setting. And dammit, Blaine was still one of their best friends, so as he began to look more and more downtrodden, Wes banged the gavel again. "Thad, David, I will have order!" he commanded, and David sunk down next to him.

Kurt's patience had long since dissipated. If Blaine _really _wanted to sing to him in public, why stop him? And he looked so sad...Kurt put his hand in the air, actually rocking back and forth in his eagerness to speak. "May I please say something?" Dread rising, Wes signaled to him with the gavel, and he stood. "With respect, I believe Blaine has a point," he began, meeting his friend's hopeful, grateful gaze. "The Warblers are so concerned with image and tradition that I feel like sometimes we miss out on opportunities to step outside our comfort zones." They were starting to look vaguely interested now, and he brought out the big guns. "When I was in New Directions, we performed for hostile crowds pretty much everywhere we went. I mean, mattress stores, shopping malls...I had a cat thrown at me in a nursing home once." Sadly, not an exaggeration. But to his delight, a few of the Warblers laughed, and even David had to work hard to hide a smile.

"It gave us confidence," he finished earnestly, returning his focus to Blaine, who was practically glowing now. "It kept us loose."

_Fuck. _"And where would this performance take place?" Wes asked wearily, sending a mental SOS to David.

"The Gap," Blaine answered promptly, and Kurt blinked. "At the North Hills mall."

_What? Why_? Kurt kept smiling, though; maybe he was just trying to be ironic or something. He certainly knew Kurt well enough to be aware that he never shopped at the Gap. Or maybe he was trying to throw Kurt off his trail so he'd be surprised when the song really was for him. "I'd like to call it the Warblers' Gap Attack," Blaine continued, starting to regain some of his usual flair along with his confidence. The Warblers laughed, apparently starting to get used to the idea, and Kurt's question burst from his lips before he could hold it back.

"Why the Gap?"

"Oh, the guy I like is a junior manager there."

And then the world ended.

Wes and David exchanged wide-eyed looks; Jim let out a badly muffled, _"Fuck_." But Kurt didn't notice. Because all that time, he'd been kidding himself. What Blaine had asked him this morning, what he'd seen as concrete confirmation that he was going to finally know what it was like to have your feelings returned...it was for some random guy. All those things Blaine had been saying, all those secretive looks and delighted smiles...they weren't for him.

_They weren't for him_.

"Those in favor?" he heard Wes asking, dimly, and managed to raise his hand a little. Because if he didn't, Blaine would know. And then he'd _really _be fucked, and he so couldn't handle this. He didn't even have it in him to look around and see how the vote turned out. All that mattered was that the motion passed, and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick.

"What do you want to sing?" David queried, and Blaine twisted his fingers together.

"I...I thought about it for a long time, and I decided...if we're going to do this, why not go all the way? I mean, what's the point in doing it half-assed?" he asked, laughing nervously. "So I picked 'When I Get You Alone,' by Robin Thicke. Remember the version we did last spring?"

"Bold choice," Jim put in dryly, from where he sat reclined with his hands folded behind his head. Kurt would have wondered at it- -he was Blaine's roommate, did he really not know anything about this?- -if he wasn't so busy trying to keep it together. "Is that really the message you want to send?"

Blaine glared at him. "I think he'd like it. I really want to do this, alright?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I mean, I don't care, 's a good arrangement. I was just checkin'."

"Wes, do we still have copies of the music?" Blaine asked, and Wes nodded.

"Jeff, could you pass those out for us?"

And maybe Kurt was hallucinating, but he thought that as Jeff handed him his music, his eyes lingered sympathetically for just a moment. He didn't have time to think about it, though, before they actually started rehearsing. The song...it talked about sex toys. Blaine. Was going to sing about sex toys. In public. To some random guy who _worked at the fucking Gap._ Kurt had thought that football game had been difficult, but _this. _This was like getting stabbed in the heart with every word, and there was no way to escape.

Except then, finally finally finally, Wes checked his watch and made a face. "Okay, Warblers, we've got to call it a day for now or we'll be late for afternoon classes. And to make this easier for all of us, I think it would be best if we moved the rest of these rehearsals to the evening. We can extend our regular time by half an hour or so, and we should be ready by this weekend. Most of us have already sung this in performance, anyway." He smiled slightly. "See you tonight for our regularly scheduled rehearsal."

Kurt didn't even bother to move from the couch, though this time, though, he knew for sure that Jeff cuffed him lightly on the shoulder as he breezed past, a silent gesture of solidarity. Everyone else walked out ahead, leaving him alone.

He didn't even consciously think about taking out his phone or dialing, but Mercedes picked up on the third ring. "Hi, baby, I'm in class," she whispered. "Can I maybe give you a call in a few?"

"I- -I really need to talk to you," he choked out, digging his fingers into the soft, buttery leather of the couch. "Please?"

A pause. "Give me thirty seconds," she whispered. There was a blast of static, presumably as she hid her phone, some incoherent mumbling, and then she was back. "What happened? Do I have to get up there and backhand a bitch?"

"No," he mumbled, sniffling.

"Honey, you have to talk to me. You're scaring me."

"It's so _sexy_," he wailed, losing his cool entirely. "And it's not for me, but he _asked _me, and I told him what...and he's not...but the _Gap_!"

"I can't figure out what that means," she said sympathetically. "Take a few deep breaths first, okay?"

He obliged, then tried again. "He was t-talking about serenading someone for Valentine's Day, someone he hasn't known very long. So then I got really excited, but it's not me, and now I have to go to the Gap and help him sing a really sexy song to some stranger." He finished with a wail. "I wanna come home."

"Aw, _hell _to the fucking no," Mercedes growled. "Baby, you want to come home, you do it. You hear me? Rachel's dads are going away this weekend, and she doesn't want to be alone. We'll go there, have a girls' night, and help you drown your sorrows."

Sniffling, he wiped his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Don't be an idiot," she scoffed. "Come. It'll make you feel better, and we miss you like crazy anyway." She sighed. "Dang, I really gotta go, honey, I'm sorry. See you tonight."

The next thing Kurt knew, Blaine was wandering back into the room, looking vaguely concerned. "Are you not coming to class?"

"What?" He blinked. "Oh. I guess I spaced out. What time is it?"

"Almost two. Are you okay? You look really pale."

"I'm just really tired. It's been kind of a long day."

"Oh." Brow furrowed, Blaine moved closer. "If you want to go take a nap, I'll get your work."

He didn't even think about it. "That'd be great. Thanks." Faking a yawn, he stretched. "I think I'll do that."

"Okay." Blaine bit his lip, rocked forward. "Hug?"

Kurt laughed dryly. "If you help me up."

Smiling, Blaine extended a hand. "Always." A shuddering sigh escaped Kurt, and he closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the slightly rough material of Blaine's blazer; and Blaine whispered, lips close enough to Kurt's ear to make him shiver, "Thank you. For helping me, I mean. They probably would have vetoed it if it hadn't been for you."

Kurt's lips curved up in a tremulous half-smile, even as his heart clenched painfully. _Great. Fucking great. _"What are friends for?"

He didn't sleep. Instead, he batted around the idea of calling his dad to tell him he was coming home, but that would mean questions that he couldn't bear to answer. True, having somewhere to escape to made the whole thing a little easier to deal with, but he didn't think he had it in him to tell his father about it, of all people.

That would make it too real.

And when Blaine came over to deliver his assignments, he looked inexplicably sheepish. "Come to dinner?"

"I can't." _Thank God. I don't think I could've handle it. _"I promised the girls I'd meet them at six."

"Wait, you're going home this weekend?" Blaine looked disappointed. "But we were going to rehearse tomorrow."

Kurt barely managed to hide his flinch. _Is that all that matters to you now? _"Oh, don't worry, I'll learn it."

Blaine pulled back a little, brow knitting. "It's not just that. I mean...I'll miss you."

Kurt swallowed hard. "I, um...I'll see you Sunday night."

* * *

He hadn't even rung the Berrys' doorbell yet, and Rachel was flying through the door and clinging to him tightly. "Kurt! Come inside, we're gonna order a pizza, and Mercedes got ice cream, and we can even watch _Mean Girls _if you want!"

He snorted. "I'm guessing she filled you in."

"Duh, white boy," she answered, appearing behind Rachel and tugging the back of her t-shirt gently. "Rach, babygirl, let him breathe, okay?"

"Sorry." Sheepish, she released him. "Did you eat at home?"

"No," he admitted, and his stomach gave an appropriately-timed growl.

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "Did you eat lunch?"

"Not...exactly?"

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yes." His stomach twisted. "Blaine made me. What were you saying about ice cream?"

The girls exchanged a loaded look, wound their arms around him, and led him quickly into the family room. "Here, baby, Rocky Road," Mercedes murmured, pushing the pint and a spoon into his hands. "Does this mean you're not ready to talk about it yet?"

He shook his head rapidly. "No. No no no. Can we not talk about boys at all? Can we just watch Lindsay Lohan be an idiot and make comments about how distressingly similar Gretchen and Karen are to Santana and Britt?"

Rachel, who had just pried the lid off her chocolate chip cookie dough, nearly upended it all over the carpet as she shrieked with laughter. "How have I never noticed that?"

"Oh, baby, you wait. Kurt and I will hook you up," Mercedes cackled, bouncing to her feet. "Where is this DVD?"

"Right under the TV, in the cabinet," she answered, gesturing with her spoon.

By the time the movie had ended, they had recast the entire movie with members of New Directions, eaten their way through all the ice cream, and somehow ended up on one love seat, limbs completely entangled.

"It's getting late," Rachel noticed, sounding kind of lazily surprised. "We should order the pizza."

"My hips should object, but you know what, I don't care," Kurt announced defiantly. "I am perfectly entitled to eat my feelings."

"Damn right you are," Mercedes replied, ruffling his hair.

"We're here for you, when you're ready to talk," Rachel added as she dialed. "I mean, I obviously understand the pain of ruined Valentine's Day plans."

Kurt whimpered quietly and snuggled closer to Mercedes. "No, make it go 'way," he mumbled, half exaggerating.

"Aw, baby," she crooned, petting his hair gently. "It's gonna be okay, I promise you."

"I'll tell you about it when the pizza gets here," he continued for Rachel's benefit, closing his eyes and nuzzling against Mercedes's shoulder. "God, I miss you guys."

The pizza arrived quickly. But then again, maybe that was just because he was dreading facing reality and telling his friends about what had happened.

"You know what we should do?" Rachel asked, bouncing up and down as she set the pizza on the kitchen table. "We should take everything upstairs and put on our pajamas so that we can get all cozy. You want to?"

Kurt shrugged. "What the hell, why not?"

"Yay!" she squealed. "I've never done this before, I'm so excited!"

Mercedes smiled enormously. "Oh, girl, you are too adorable. Let's do this."

"Can someone braid my hair?" Rachel added as they bounded up the stairs.

"I will. It has been far too long," he answered, smiling slightly. "Can we play Gaga?"

"We can play whatever you want, honey."

After a little 'Bad Romance' and a French braid for Rachel, Kurt was feeling courageous enough to talk about the Gap Attack disaster. He blurted the story in a few quick sentences, hoping that the faster he spoke, the less it would hurt. It wasn't true, but at least it wasn't dragging on forever. "I was absolutely _devastated," _he finished with a little relief, folding his pizza slice in half and taking a savage bite.

Rachel furrowed her brow worriedly. "Did he ever actually say you two were dating?"

He flinched and spoke around his mouthful. "Not in so many words..."

Mercedes looked up. "Well, did he ever put the moves on you?" Implied was the _and you never told me_? Because for the most part, he'd been keeping her very much updated, and she knew it.

_Damn, it's like taking a bullet_. "No," he admitted in a small voice. "But we were always singing duets, and he was always smiling at me." When the girls just kept watching him in silent sympathy, a lump of embarrassment rose in his throat. "Oh, God, I made up the whole thing in my head, didn't I?"

"Listen, we've all been there," Mercedes began comfortingly. "At least, I have. With you."

He winced apologetically, but before he could reply, Rachel jumped in. "I know exactly what you mean! If Finn thinks he's just going to walk out of my life, he's _wrong_." She spun around, abruptly enthusiastic; Kurt backed off a little. Whenever she got that gleam in her eye, there was about to be some serious crazy. And sure enough... "Because I am going to walk up to that kissing booth tomorrow with a hundred dollar bill, and he's not going to be able to make change, and then he'll be forced to kiss me one hundred times. And when his lips touch mine, I'm _telling _you, he is going to _feel _it- -"

"Okay, we're supposed to be giving Kurt advice, remember?" Rachel blushed slightly, looking down, and Mercedes smiled in spite of herself. "You are going to the Gap Attack, right?" she added to Kurt.

"Should I?" he asked pathetically.

"Yes," she replied emphatically; Rachel nodded in agreement from behind her. "Scope out the competition. See what this guy's like!" She watched them for a moment. "You know, you are both so guy crazy."

Kurt stared. Rachel dropped her stuffed animal in surprise.

"Yeah. Look at me. I don't have a date for Valentine's Day, and I could give a rip," she reminded them. "The three of us are divas! Look at our idols- -Whitney, Barbra, Patti...they all became stars while they were single." She was completely wrapped up in her own speech now. "They took all their pain and loneliness and put it in their music. People could _relate _to it. Everyone feels lonely...harnessing that pain is why they became legends!"

Kurt picked uncertainly at the crust of his pizza, but Rachel seemed enraptured. "Why has this never occurred to me?" she demanded, and Mercedes shrugged.

"Sometimes you have to choose between love and talent. As far as I'm concerned, we all need to fly solo for a while."

He had to admit, it didn't sound so bad. Actually...it made a lot of sense. "It's so nice to be around girls for a change."

"Aww," Mercedes crooned, beaming at him.

Rachel crawled over and cuddled up next to him, clutching her stuffed monkey to her chest. "It's so nice to have you back."

* * *

The time immediately following the sleepover was infinitely easier. Not _easy_, per se, not by any means, but definitely more bearable. And, as time tends to do when you just want it to freeze, it sped up, propelling Kurt to the North Hills mall the Saturday before Valentine's Day, waiting for his crush to serenade another guy.

"Can I ask you something?" Kurt ventured, twisting the bottom of his tie around his fingers. What the hell, it wasn't as though he had anything left to lose. And he might as well ask before Jeremiah swooned at Blaine's feet and he had to deal with disgusting displays of coupledom all over the place.

"Sure." He was actually bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he scoured the parking lot. "Where are Nick and Jeff? They are coming, aren't they?"

"Yes," Kurt answered patiently. "I told you, Nick texted me that they're running a little late, but they should be here in about five minutes."

"Right, right. Sorry." He graced Kurt with a brief smile. "I'm just nervous. But anyway, your question?"

"Why did you ask me what I would've wanted? You pretty much went with the exact opposite of what I said."

A pause. "I don't know," he replied finally, looking pensive. "I wanted ideas, I guess. But you and he are really different, so I'm hoping it's okay." He looked at Kurt again, apparently not aware that he had just basically carved Kurt's heart out of his chest and pulverized it. "Do you think it will be okay? Do you think I should have picked a different song? Because maybe this isn't the best- -"

"Blaine," Kurt interrupted firmly, putting his hands on his friend's shoulders. _You cannot break my fucking heart and then not even have the guts to see if you have a chance at being happy with this guy. Because if you don't have closure, I won't have a shot in hell at finding it either. _"Courage, okay? You picked this song because it...spoke to you."_ About sex toys. Oh God. _"And you are going to go in there and sing it for him, and it's going to be fantastic. And no matter what happens, you'll know you went for it, and you'll never have to wonder 'what if?' Okay?"

And then, all of a sudden, he was being smothered in a tight hug. "You are the absolute _best_," Blaine murmured fervently into the fabric of his blazer.

"Yes, well, I try," he replied primly. "Nick and Jeff just pulled in, let's go."

The rest of the Warblers had been filtering into the Gap at well-timed intervals; Kurt and Blaine were the last, other than Nick and Jeff. Wes shot Blaine a surreptitious thumbs-up from where he was pretending to argue about a pair of jeans with David, and Blaine tried to smile. His nervousness was becoming even more apparent, and Kurt sighed, tucking his arm through Blaine's and towing him toward the first rack of clothing he saw. "We can't just stand in the middle of the store," he reminded Blaine quietly. "That is the wrong side of conspicuous."

But Blaine didn't seem to be listening; his attention had been captivated by someone several feet away. "That's him," he hissed, flipping through a rack of clothes without even bothering to glance at them "The blonde one folding sweaters."

Kurt, who had been pretending to examine some random, heinous article of polyester-blend clothing, abandoned it immediately to follow Blaine's line of vision. The guy was blonde, alright. Blonde, and tall, and kind of weirdly hipster-rugged. _I think I'd have preferred if Jim was his type, _Kurt thought miserably. Because this guy? He had absolutely _nothing _in common with Kurt. "I can see the appeal," he forced out, with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "That's quite a head of hair."

"His name's Jeremiah," Blaine announced dreamily, apparently oblivious to Kurt's obvious disapproval. "If we got married, the Gap would give me a fifty percent discount."

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Kurt didn't even know where to begin. Finally, he managed to demand, "Are you serious?", but Blaine was already on the move. Kurt fell back a little to watch as he drew a deep breath, strode to the middle of the floor, and then signaled to Wes. As the opening chords rang out across the store, he closed his eyes, steeling himself- -_whatever happens, you'll know you went for it_- -and pasted on his best show face.

And then he was on the prowl. "Baby girl, where ya at? Got no strings, got men attached. Can't stop that feelin' for long, no..." Zeroing in on Jeremiah, he stalked forward, letting himself smirk just a little when his intended audience caught on to what was happening. But Jeremiah just frowned and walked quickly away. The nervousness returned tenfold, and he clenched his fists and forced it back. He couldn't, _wouldn't_, give up yet.

Kurt, meanwhile, was in agony. He'd already abandoned any attempt to smiling, and was glowering at the douchewagon who couldn't even seem to spare Blaine a cursory glance. Yet, somehow, Blaine remained undeterred. He practically trotted after Jeremiah, dogging every step the older boy made, and singing with such earnestness that it was practically tactile. A treacherous lump clogged Kurt's throat, strangling his voice, and he swallowed hard, still mouthing the lyrics as though he was totally fine.

"...and I want you so bad," Blaine announced, finally succeeding in immersing himself in show mode, strolling around the store as though he owned it. The Warblers, as promised, backed his every step. It was as though once Blaine had been able to convince himself that he could do this, his luck changed for the better- -some of the shoppers were actually swaying, beaming, even recording the performance. It didn't even bother him that Jeremiah seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact with him, nor that he'd taken refuge behind the cash register. Maybe he was just shy. True, he'd never seemed to be before, but there were an awful lot of strangers here. That was probably it.

The attack of secondhand embarrassment that Kurt was suffering only increased as Blaine leapt onto a nearby table, apparently all confidence all of a sudden, and sang, "You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight!" Kurt's jaw fell open slightly- -after the first rehearsal, Blaine had changed that particular line to something more PC. But now- -

_Oh, I don't think I can do this. _He sagged against the mannequin that was conveniently right next to him, bizarrely grateful for its presence. Because Blaine was staring starry-eyed at this stupid, ungrateful boy wearing a pout that Kurt had only ever before seen...while they were singing "Baby It's Cold Outside." He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the burning in his eyes before it could manifest itself as he feared it might.

To be honest, he wasn't even sure if he was singing at this point. He might very well have started vocalizing again on autopilot, but at the moment, his focus was more on remaining vertical and not breaking down in front of dozens of people. It didn't help that this was one of the strongest performances the Warblers had given in a long time, and that there was an energy to Blaine's performance in particular that Kurt didn't think he'd _ever _seen.

The next thing he knew, the song was over, and there was a rather beefy, intimidating-looking man booming, "Alright, that's enough. Now I suggest you all get out of here, unless you'd like security to _escort _you out."

He might not have actually moved, had Jim not seized his hand and pulled him bodily out of the store. "Pull it together," the redhead muttered out of the corner of his mouth. And that was enough to snap him out of it, just enough.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not trying to be an asshole. I'm just saying, you need to be able to function for another, like, hour, and then you can mope all you fuckin' want."

As much as Kurt hated to admit it, he had a point. "Thanks," he sighed, and then promptly realized that he'd basically just admitted to his rather embarrassing infatuation on Jim's roommate. "Wait, I mean- -"

"I'm not going to tell him, calm down." Rolling his eyes, Jim finally released him. "I _am _going to go prevent Wes from murdering him, though. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah."

Wes was practically having a coronary, railing at a still goofily grinning Blaine, and Kurt sighed, slipping out the door unnoticed. He sunk onto an unoccupied bench, grateful for the icy air that sliced through the fog inhabiting his head. But unfortunately, Jim's calming tactics seemed to have been successful, because he'd only been there about a minute before Blaine was joining him. "Hey."

"Hi."

Blaine moistened his lips, looking troubled. "So...what'd you think?"

"You sounded amazing," he sighed. "You know that. You always sound amazing."

"Thanks," he managed. "But, I mean...what do you think he thought of it?"

It was like getting kicked in the face. "I don't know. If I'd ever met him, I might have been able to judge better, but I can't really say." _And by that I mean I don't want to tell you that he didn't seem to care. Because it would kill you. And then I'd probably be wrong anyway._

He didn't seem comforted. "I think it was too much," he muttered anxiously. "Was it too much?"

Kurt just lifted an eyebrow. _No, Blaine, it's perfectly socially acceptable to sing about sex toys in public locations, and to chase boys who are trying to get away from you. Perfectly. Fine._

"It was too much," Blaine mumbled, fidgeting.

Thank God, the door opened before Kurt had to come up with something else to say. Blaine was on his feet in a moment; Kurt kicked the ground and focused all his energy on shriveling up and disappearing.

"Jeremiah!" Blaine exclaimed, practically scurrying forward. "Hey!"

Jeremiah's expression was almost disdainful as he yanked his hood over his wild hair. "What the hell were you doing?"

Kurt, who had been trying to figure out if he could escape unnoticed, straightened.

"What?" Blaine asked, too cheerfully.

"I just got fired," Jeremiah snapped. Blaine blinked, some of the hope draining from his face. "You can't just bust a groove in the middle of someone else's workplace."

Kurt was practically holding his breath, his eyes swiveling from one boy to the other. "But they loved it," Blaine protested, sounding like a wounded puppy. And damn it all to hell, but Kurt couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"Well, my boss didn't. And neither did I," Jeremiah stated bluntly. Blaine's face fell, and he stared down at his feet. Kurt's lips twitched, just a little, and he immediately felt like a horrible person. "Nobody I work with knows I'm gay."

And that was the last straw. True, Kurt was over the damn _moon _that Jeremiah didn't seem to care about Blaine, but there was no reason to take his anger out on someone for caring about him. And seeing Blaine so torn up was almost as bad as experiencing it himself. "Can I be honest?" he blurted out, and didn't wait for a response. "With that hair, I think they do."

Jeremiah just rolled his eyes and went back to ignoring Kurt's existence. "Blaine, let's just be clear here," he said, his tone overly calm, and practically dripping condescension. "You and I got coffee twice. We're not dating." Blaine blinked rapidly, looking hopelessly confused, but Jeremiah wasn't finished. "And if we were, I'd get arrested. Because you're underage." And, patting Blaine's shoulder once, he trudged back into the mall.


	13. You'd Think That, But You'd Be Wrong

**YOU GUYS, OH MY GOD.**

**Come here, all of you, and just let me love you forever. Never in my life have I had so many reviews/alerts/favorites on any fic, and I am just...beside myself. This is so surreal. Every last one of you is absolutely _beautiful. _**

**This is the last half of Silly Love Songs! (That awkward moment where you write almost two pages of Breadstix stuff that you don't end up using when you actually type up your chapter, though. Really?)**

Kurt had absolutely no idea how to feel. On one hand, there was the overwhelming joy, because he hadn't had to witness any nauseating declarations of love/wouldn't have to figure out a way to deal with lovestruck, moony Blaine anymore. On the other, there was the reality that regardless of how Jeremiah felt, Blaine had liked him enough to risk rejection. More than he'd liked Kurt, obviously, or they wouldn't even be in this situation. And that still sucked hugely. He watched Blaine quietly for a few minutes; his friend had sunk back onto the bench and was staring blankly at the ground as though he didn't even know how he'd gotten there. And eventually, Kurt was able to clear the cobwebs from his throat long enough to place a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder and ask, "You okay?"

Blaine blinked dejectedly at him. "What even just happened? I just- -I can't...I can't believe how wrong I was."

There was a lump in Kurt's throat again. Honestly, at this point, he was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to get through a day again without wanting to cry about something or other, and it was getting seriously frustrating. He clenched his teeth, forcing back the emotion yet again, and spoke. "Well, don't be to hard on yourself. It happens to all of us, you know? And it sucks, I know, but...we'll be okay." _Please don't argue with me about this, I'm trying to convince myself as much as you._

He was silent for a moment. "I know, I guess, but...can we just go? I don't really want to be here anymore."

"Of course. Keys?"

"What?"

"I'm providing you with ample opportunities to mope. Give me your keys."

It took him a lot longer than it should have to process this. "No, don't worry about it, really. Thank you, though."

Kurt leveled him with the best _bitch, please, _look he could muster. "Blaine, honestly, your reaction time is slightly terrifying right now. Give me the damn keys." His goal was met twofold when Blaine cracked a tiny smile and passed them over obediently. "Thank you."

The ride home was completely silent. Blaine half curled in on himself and stared out the window, looking miserable and barely responding to Kurt's few attempts at talking to him. Kurt, who knew very well what Blaine was feeling, didn't try too hard, and didn't bother turning on any music. (After all, he wasn't sure what would remind Blaine of Jeremiah. Besides, there were a distressingly large number of songs that would only serve to remind him of how very hopeless his own situation was, and he didn't have it in him to wade through them.)

"Are you...do you want...do you need anything?" he asked clumsily, when they were back at Dalton.

"No," Blaine sighed, "I'm okay. Thank you, though. For everything."

"I haven't really done much," Kurt answered halfheartedly, handing back Blaine's keys.

"You have, though," he objected. He was flushed, still not quite meeting Kurt's eyes, but his tone was almost painfully sincere. "Without you, I probably wouldn't have had the guts to do it, and then I would have just kept pining after him like an idiot."

Kurt bit his lip, heart twinging empathetically. "Well, hey, I was in love with my stepbrother. I'm so not allowed to judge."

Kind of snorting, Blaine met his eye. "Well, still. It means a lot." He drew a tremulous breath. "I'm gonna go nap or something, I think."

Part of Kurt wanted to object, because he knew from experience that wallowing wasn't going to make anything better. But on the other hand, if he were in Blaine's position, he'd want a little time to lick his wounds in private (and actually, he kind of wanted that now, too). So he just nodded. "Don't stay in your room all weekend, though."

"Promise."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Paul tossed his keys onto his desk with a loud clang and stared at his roommate as one would a rabid animal.

Kurt glanced up, eyes clouded and lips turned down in the mother of all frowns. "Eating chocolate, Paul."

Cautiously, Paul pulled his desk chair closer and sat down. "Is everything okay?"

_Oh, you know. The love of my life shattered my heart under his heel, I miss my McKinley friends so much that it hurts, and I am so damn stressed all the time that I feel like I'm going to die. But besides that, I am completely fine. Couldn't be better, even._ But instead of saying any of that, Kurt snorted. "I look that good, huh?"

Paul blinked, fussing compulsively with his hair (something Blaine never, ever had to do because he, for unknown reasons, had no idea how to measure appropriate amounts of hair gel. And god_damm_it, why did everything have to remind him of Blaine all the time?). "I'm just worried. Because I thought you were on a...wait. Are you mad at me for something?"

"No, Paul," he answered, sighing. "I'm not mad." _I just want to be happy._

"Are you stressed?" his roommate pressed on valiantly. "Because seriously, I can help you out. Or whatever. If you want."

"It's not the workload," Kurt grumbled, even though it sure as hell wasn't helping. He knew he should probably be giving his roommate a little more to work with, because it was actually really sweet of him to care, but...he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Paul's eyebrows scrunched together, and he continued to watch Kurt concernedly. "Kurt, seriously, are you sure you're okay? You've seemed kind of upset for like, days."

Kurt blinked. "You noticed?"

"...are you serious?" Beyond confused, Paul scooted his chair right up next to Kurt's and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, I'm your _roommate_. What kind of dickhead would I be if I didn't notice? I just didn't say anything because I wasn't sure if you wanted me to. Y'know? Like, I figured I'd give you a little bit of time to get it worked out on your own. Because you seemed like you wanted to be alone."

For some stupid reason, Paul's words made a lump rise in Kurt's throat. He smiled tremulously and drew a calming breath. "Thanks, Paul. That means...a lot to me. Really."

"Of course." Paul grinned back, ruffling Kurt's already uncharacteristically messy hair. "Seriously, you should talk to somebody, even if it's not me. It's freaking me out that you're not yelling at me for touching your luscious locks or whatever."

And Kurt really had _no effing idea_ where this was coming from, because he really didn't want to burden Paul with his stupid issues. But suddenly, he was blurting out, "Well, I would talk to Blaine if he wasn't a huge part of the reason I'm like this in the first place."

Paul froze. "Oh. _Oh_. Um."

"You don't have to say anything," Kurt rushed on. "I didn't mean to actually tell you that. It slipped."

"Er..." Paul gave his head an experimental shake. "I didn't know you were into Blaine."

Kurt's face felt hot, and he fiddled unnecessarily with the piles of papers taking over his desk, avoiding Paul's steady gaze. "Does that freak you out?"

"No! Jesus, no," Paul exclaimed, sounding offended. "I just wasn't expecting it, is all." A horrified expression suddenly crossed his face, and his eyes were wide when he met Kurt's again. "Holy _shit_, that Gap thing must've sucked ass for you."

"Majorly," Kurt agreed dryly.

Pouting, Paul turned away for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "Hey...would it make you feel better if you talked to one of your McKinley friends?"

"I did," he admitted, "but now I just miss home." He stopped speaking abruptly and shook his head, hard, trying to shake off some of the gloom that had settled over him. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to start burdening you with all of this."

Paul narrowed his eyes in a _please, I am not even going to dignify that with an answer_ glare and pressed on. "I mean, it's Saturday, though." Abruptly, face lit up, and Kurt could see a hint of a brewing Master Plan in his eyes. Despite himself, he smiled just a little.

"What are you thinking?"

"It's _Saturday_," Paul repeated, with entirely extraneous emphasis, looking at Kurt like this made sense.

"Yes. Yes, I believe we've established that..."

"What if you went home? You just said you missed it, so why not?"

He'd just been home last weekend, but _God _that would be amazing. He had no reason to stick around here besides Blaine, and if he had a guess, Blaine would probably be moping most of the time anyway. _You should probably help him, then_, his conscience pointed out. _He's been nothing but completely supportive of you every time _you've _had anything even remotely resembling an issue. _"I...I should probably hang around to check on Blaine."

Wes and David had this problem. This tendency to hover at closed doors and listen to things that they probably shouldn't have been hearing, if they'd been walking by a friend's room and happened to catch something interesting. And they'd been about to knock on Kurt's door anyway. So what they were _really _doing was being respectful by letting him finish his conversation.

Cough.

Paul wasn't sure how to respond to this, which was why he was kind of absurdly grateful when someone knocked. "I'll get it," he offered, bouncing to his feet at once.

"Hi." David strolled in the moment the door was open. "We came to visit."

"And we heard you mention Blaine," Wes added, with absolutely zero preamble.

Kurt flushed deeply. "W-what?"

David's lips twitched. "How you're worried about him," he clarified, because he suspected that if he told Kurt they had a) heard his confession, and b) known all along anyway, Kurt might actually explode.

"Oh." His expression cleared in a split second. "Right."

"We can take care of him, if you want to go home."

And the mortification was back. "I...it's not that, it's just...he's always been so amazing to me. I don't want to abandon him."

"We can tell him that for you," Wes jumped in, grinning. "But really, we're being selfish, too."

"Right! Because we...feel bad about how we reacted to his idea," David improvised, "and we want to make it up to him. Especially since it turned out so badly."

"And, of _course_, you could be part of our plans if you wanted..."

"...but you also don't have to feel obligated to stay here just for him!"

Kurt was laughing by now. "Do you two share a mind or something?"

"We wonder the same thing all the time," David announced solemnly.

"Well, in that case, I leave him in your capable hands," Kurt replied, with some relief. "But do tell him I was asking about him, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'll explain!" Wes assured him merrily, cuffing him on the shoulder. And they bounced out the door with no further ado.

* * *

One surprise visit home hadn't been cause for concern. Confusion, but not concern. However, when his son burst through the front door at five on Saturday evening, Burt knew immediately that something was wrong. "Hey, kiddo, we weren't expecting you," he said gruffly, meeting him in the hallway and pulling him into a hug.

"Surprise." Kurt clung to him, letting the embrace linger far longer than he usually did; Burt's worry augmented tenfold.

"Everything okay?"

Pulling away with a sigh, Kurt confessed, "I just had kind of a crappy day, and I missed you guys, so I figured, why not come home?"

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. It's not...I just want to ignore it."

"But you're okay, right? No one's harassing you? No one did anything to you?" he asked intently. Because he'd be _damned _if he let anyone hurt his kid like that McKinley jock had ever again. Christ, he still hadn't forgiven himself for what had happened there.

"No, no, not at all." Recognizing the urgency in his father's voice, Kurt kept his gaze steady as he spoke. "I promise."

"Well, good. If you do want to talk about it, though, I'm here. No matter what it is."

"I know."

"I love you, kiddo."

And dammit, that choked Kurt up a little, but he managed a shaky smile. "Love you too, Dad."

"Kurt?" Carole stuck her head into the hallway, beaming. "Hi, sweetie! Oh, you picked a good night to come home. I'm making veggie lasagna."

He brightened immediately. "Oh, thank Gaga. The kitchen staff at Dalton does the best they can, but I've missed your cooking."

Smile widening, she strode over and pulled him into a tight hug. "Hey, be careful around your brother, okay? He managed to come down with mono somehow, so he's upstairs resting at the moment."

_Oh, did he now? _"I will definitely keep that in mind."

"Are you hungry?" she asked, wrapping an arm around him and leading him into the kitchen.

"Yeah, actually," he admitted. Blaine had been too nervous to eat pretty much all day, which meant that he hadn't thought to force Kurt to eat breakfast. And in all honesty, Kurt had been too emotionally wrecked to eat much anyway.

"Did you remember to eat lunch?" Burt asked shrewdly, remembering his son's tendency to forgo important things like food whenever he was stressed.

"Yeah, I ate at the mall."

"Oh, were you going shopping?" Carole asked cheerfully, doling out a generous portion for him.

"No, actually, we were flash-mobbing a Gap," he sighed. No use in trying to hide it now that it'd come up. And maybe it would make him feel better to talk about it? _Doubtful, but maybe._

"Really? What for?"

He coughed and stared at his plate. Ugh, this was going to suck even more than he'd thought. "Blaine, uh, wanted to sing to someone. Some hipster who wasn't even remotely interested."

"Oh." Carole's face fell immediately. "Oh, sweetie."

Kurt smiled thinly and tasted a forkful of lasagna. "This is delicious."

"Thank you." She bit her lip, and tentatively broached a new subject. "I actually need your opinion on something."

Burt looked at her confusedly, but when Kurt stopped his stormy contemplation of his plate, he understood. "Sure, what?"

"I've got to go to a friend's niece's baby shower, and I need something to wear, but I have absolutely no idea where to begin."

Brightening immediately, Kurt straightened up. "Well, that really depends..."

They were embroiled in that conversation long enough that Burt almost fell asleep over his plate, and he only emerged from his stupor when he heard Carole mentioning something about movies and ice cream. "What are we watching?"

"Something without romance," Kurt blurted out, and Burt blinked.

"I think that's the first time you've _ever _said that, kid."

"Yeah, well, it was that kind of day," he answered, trying to grin. "Can we watch some completely mindless comedy?"

"Sure, I could do with a little plotlessness, myself," Carole agreed.

"Should I go check on Finn, or just let him sleep?"

"Let him sleep. Poor thing's absolutely exhausted," Carole murmured sympathetically. "I brought him some soup just before you got home, and he passed out right after he ate."

"Okay." Kurt shrugged and trailed after his parents, curling up between them on the couch. It was surprising, how quickly he was able to relax. The movie was ridiculous, of course- -some random thing that his dad thought was hilarious, and that actually was pretty entertaining- -but apparently not enough to make up for the fact that he'd gotten almost no sleep the night before, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up and it was morning.

He ended up spending most of the day with Mercedes, who came over during Sunday brunch because he'd told her that he was home, for the sole purpose of checking on him. And by the time he drove back to Westerville on Monday morning, he was feeling surprisingly decent.

"Hey there," Kurt greeted Blaine once he'd arrived at the Lima Bean, trying for a cheerful smile. Escaping (again) for the weekend had definitely helped clear his own head, but Blaine didn't look much better.

"Hi," he replied dully, barely meeting Kurt's eye.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" he tried valiantly, as though he didn't already know.

Blaine's face twisted as he glared around the small shop, and he didn't bother to answer. "Ugh, don't they have anything here that isn't covered in stupid little hearts? _Gross_."

It would have been funny if it wasn't so depressing. "Well, you've certainly changed your tune." It wasn't particularly helpful, he knew, but he really didn't know what else to say.

"I don't think I've ever made that big a fool of myself," Blaine muttered, his embarrassment and hurt still palpable. "Which is saying something, because I've performed in theme parks." He groaned. "I just...I can't believe I made it all up in my head."

The words so closely echoed Kurt's own sentiments that his heart stuttered. _Talk to him. Do it now or you never will. It's not like you've got much left to lose. _So, even though the very thought of what he was about to do made him feel like throwing up, he drew a deep breath and turned to Blaine. "Okay, can I ask you something? Because we've always been completely honest with each other."

Blaine didn't say anything, but his eyes were completely focused. It was apparently all the invitation he was going to get, so Kurt steeled himself and pressed on. "You and I...we hang out, we sing flirty duets, you know my coffee order...was I supposed to think that was nothing?"

His throat was dry, his heart was pounding so hard that it actually hurt. And Blaine was just watching him, brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"

_Ohgodohgodohgod. _"I thought that the guy you wanted to ask out on Valentine's Day was me," he admitted in a tiny voice, clutching at the counter in the hopes that it would keep him steady.

Blaine didn't answer for a moment, and Kurt let his eyes flutter closed, trying to get his pulse back under control. "Wow," he managed finally, staring at the ground. "I really am clueless." There was a roaring in his ears, as though he was standing right near a waterfall; he felt like he'd had the ground snatched out from under him. _Jim was right. _"Look, Kurt," he began uncertainly. "I don't know what I'm doing. I pretend like I do, and I know how to act it out in song, but...the truth is...I've never even been anyone's boyfriend." He'd implied as much with Kurt before, but somehow, it felt different to admit it here. He swallowed hard, watching Kurt closely.

The other boy's lips curved in the slightest of smiles. "Me neither."

Blaine glanced down again for a moment. Kurt was obviously hurting, and he was desperate to lift some of that pain. "Let me be clear about something," he began, meeting Kurt's eyes again. "I really, _really_ care about you." And it was a hundred percent true; whether or not he had romantic feelings for Kurt- -which he still wasn't sure about- -the fact that he cared very very deeply for the boy in front of him had never been a question. He only hoped that his cluelessness hadn't ruined everything completely. It was like he kept telling Jim...that was exactly what he'd been afraid of all along. "But as you and about twenty mortified shoppers saw, I'm not very good at romance." _And I am so, so afraid of losing you. _"I don't want to screw this up."

Kurt had to look away for a second to get a hold on the riot of emotions rampaging through him. "So it's like 'When Harry Met Sally,'" he commented, grinning teasingly. "But I get to play Meg Ryan."

"Deal," Blaine promised immediately, so earnest that Kurt's heart clenched. His determinedly happy expression faltered slightly despite himself, and Blaine shifted with a sudden realization. "Don't they get together in the end?"

Kurt suppressed a slightly hysterical grin and stepped up to order. "Could I get a nonfat mocha and a medium drip for my friend Billy Crystal?" he asked, locking eyes with the slightly concerned looking barista.

"Ah, you know my coffee order," Blaine said, mustering a smile.

Kurt returned it, half-lost in reverie. _This is ridiculous_, _We're both alone, both miserable about it, and it's Valentine's- -oh my God._

"You know what? I think I've got something for us to do on Valentine's Day." _And if I can pull it off, it will be fucking _amazing.

"...what?" Blaine asked skeptically. "Because I don't know if I'm up for a repeat of Saturday."

"No, don't even worry about that," Kurt assured him, flailing slightly in his excitement. "There will be no judgement. Well. I mean...none that you have to worry about, at least."

"I don't know if I'm comforted."

"No, okay, that came out wrong. But really, aside from Nick and Jeff, how many of the Warblers are even dating right now?"

"Not many. And I think most of them celebrated over the weekend anyway, because there's something at Crawford Country today, and since that's where most of their girlfriends even go, they can't do much today." He blinked. "Wait, what's this about Nick and Jeff?"

Kurt smirked. "Don't worry about it."

"It's $7.65," the barista put in, sounding a little apologetic for having to interrupt them. Kurt had paid and thanked her before Blaine even realized what was happening, and he handed him his coffee and steered him to a table.

"Anyway, most of my friends are having relationship issues right now, too, so what if we all got together? Breadstix is always interested in having people perform, and it'll be a lot more fun to spend today with awesome Italian food and company, don't you think?"

"It sounds amazing," Blaine admitted. "But performing? I don't think the council will be okay with that."

"We've got music, though. And we're not using that arrangement of 'Silly Love Songs' in competition anyway, we already decided. Besides, like I said, New Directions will perform anywhere, and it'll be good for us to have a casual setting to hear each other."

Laughing a little, Blaine let his fingers brush Kurt's. "I'm already all for it. You sound like you're trying to convince me."

"I'm practicing for the council," Kurt answered, snickering.

It had actually been a good idea. Because a few hours later, he was standing in front of them, repeating exactly what he'd said to Blaine. And, amazingly, it seemed to be working.

"Actually..." Wes began, furrowing his brow and studying Kurt, "that's not a bad idea."

"I kind of like it," David agreed. "I mean, they're our competition, but this sounds like it'd be really relaxed."

"It couldn't be any worse than the Gap Attack," Thad piped up, shooting Blaine a look that didn't go unnoticed by anyone. "It might even be good exposure for the Warblers."

"Well, what do you think?" Wes asked the room at large. "Those in favor?"

Any doubts Kurt could have had vanished almost immediately, as every Warbler raised his hand. "Fantastic!" He beamed. "Don't any of you worry. I'll take care of everything."

* * *

"Guess our plans've been made for us," Nick said wryly, flopping across Jeff's bed in blatant disregard for the fact that both of them had classes to attend.

"Guess so." Jeff pouted, lying down next to him. "I'm kind of sad, actually. I really wanted to make our first Valentine's Day together as cheesy and ridiculous as possible. Especially since I was completely oblivious for, like, weeks."

"How were you planning on doing that?"

"Well, I can't _do _it, now, so why would I talk about it? That would just be depressing."

Nick laughed and snuggled closer, letting his head rest against his boyfriend's shoulder. "You weren't sure, were you?"

"Hey, I had a few ideas!" Jeff protested, mock-offended.

"It's okay," he murmured. "I think we should just skip afternoon classes and stay like this for the rest of the day."

Without even realizing it, Jeff had begun idly trailing his fingers along Nick's arm. "I wouldn't mind playing hooky with you."

"Good, 'coz I don't feel like moving," he replied with a lazy smile.

Jeff pressed his lips lightly to the top of Nick's head. "Don't, then."

Nick sighed happily, closing his eyes. "You know you only get full points for this Valentine's Day if you sing me a song about sex toys in front of about two dozen complete strangers, right?"

Jeff snickered. "No, but I feel like that can only be done once, and now it's ruined for us. But if I had more money, I'd have bought you a heart-shaped pendant with tiny, crappy diamonds that cost as much as the mortgage on our summer house. I'm sorry I didn't, baby, I promise I still care!"

"It's okay. It's totally fine. Because you know what? I bought us conversation hearts."

Jeff sat up abruptly, completely forgetting that Nick was still resting on him. "Oh my God, did you really though?"

"...I'm glad the candy is so exciting to you that you forgot about me," Nick teased, not even bothering to try to sit up.

"Sorry." Jeff nuzzled him lightly and pulled him upright. "You mean more to me than the candy, I swear."

"Good." He rolled gracelessly off the bed and tripped over to his desk, freeing the small cardboard box from his top drawer. "See? Your man thinks ahead."

"Damn right you do." Jeff grinned, grabbing Nick's hand once he got close enough and tugging him back onto the bed.

Nick let out a shout of laughter as he tumbled back, crashing into Jeff's chest. "Guh. Sorry."

"'M not," Jeff murmured teasingly, winding his arms around Nick's waist.

"Cheeseball," Nick accused, blushing too hard to be altogether believable. He ripped open the box artlessly and shook a few of the tiny candies into his hand. "Hey, Jeff...call me?"

"Never," he replied, stealing another heart out of the box. "This one says _hot baby. _Jesus, that's kind of disturbing, considering that it's usually, like, eight-year-olds who hand these out."

"That is a little freaky," Nick agreed with an exaggerated shudder. "At least _be_ _mine_ is kinda cute."

"Hmm," he agreed distractedly, and then nudged Nick's shoulder gently with his nose. Snorting, Nick looked back at him fondly.

"What, you weirdo?"

"Turn around?" Jeff whispered, releasing him so that he could do so. Smiling slightly, he obeyed, and Jeff wordlessly held out one small, pink candy: _Kiss me. _

Mischievously, Nick moved closer and took it from him, letting his lips linger on Jeff's fingertips for the briefest of moments before leaning up to press their lips together. Jeff's tongue swept lightly over his bottom lip, and Nick smirked and allowed him to deepen the kiss. Gently, he steered Jeff backward so that he was reclining against his multitude of pillows and pulled away, teasing him with tiny, feather-light kisses. Jeff lost his patience with this quickly, though, and wrapped his arms around Nick's neck, pouting. "Cheater."

Nick chuckled and relented, kissing him so thoroughly that they were both left breathless. "Better?"

"I think I ended up with that candy," he managed, pressing his lips to the little hollow place just under Nick's jaw. He grinned triumphantly as the other boy squirmed, letting his lips travel over the patch of skin. "Don't think I won't remember that you're sensitive here." And then, as suddenly as he'd begun, he abandoned his new discovery in favor of kissing Nick again.

* * *

"...how the hell," Blaine marveled, glancing around the space, "is this even possible?"

"Please," Kurt scoffed, mock-snooty, "I have a collection of decorations that words cannot even describe."

"Which doesn't explain how you decorated everything in less than an hour."

"I can be very charming when I need to be, Blaine. And, when given appropriately detailed instructions, most people are perfectly capable of helping with such things."

"So I see." He smiled widely. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks. Actually, can you take this for a sec?" he added, holding out the huge box he'd been about to carry back to his car. "My phone just vibrated, and I still haven't heard from Quinn."

"Sure, of course."

Kurt wrestled the phone out of his pocket, and his lips rounded into a small 'oh' of surprise. "Quinn's got mono, too? Funny, that didn't come up while I was home the other day."

"Wait, who else has mono?"

"Finn," he replied, almost slyly, taking back his box. "Be back in two seconds, I'm just going to take this back to the car."

"Do you need help?"

"Nah, got it. But if you wanna walk with me, I guess I'll have to let you." He winked; Blaine smirked and fell into step easily beside him.

"I will never again doubt your decorating prowess, just so you know."

"I'm actually really offended you ever did." Blaine snorted, darting ahead to open the door for him. "Thanks."

"So is everyone else coming?"

"Mmhmm. They're really excited." He thought about asking Blaine to get the keys out of his back pocket for exactly .001 seconds, then, blushing, set the box on the asphalt and got them himself.

"Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

"Yeah!" _Too quick. _"You know, just...decorating." He cleared his throat, changing the subject. "How are you holding up?"

Blaine blinked. "You know this is the first time I've thought about it since the meeting this morning?"

"_Really_. Well, I'm impressed."

"Maybe I wasn't as crazy about him as I thought I was." Blaine sighed. "I think maybe...eh, never mind."

"No, go ahead," Kurt urged, eager to hear what he was thinking.

"It's pathetic."

"Blaine. I set up my dad and my stepmother because I was under the deluded impression that spending more time with me would convince Finn that he was gay. I will only stop mentioning this when you stop assuming that I'm going to judge you for something that's pretty normal."

"I think...I just wanted to go on a date, and Jeremiah was nice to me, so I assumed...I don't know."

"It happens to the best of us," he replied, shooting Blaine a sympathetic smile. "But at least you know now that you weren't in love with him."

"That's a relief," Blaine admitted, leaning against Kurt's car. "You know, this is a really great idea."

"I'm really looking forward to everyone getting here," he answered, practically bouncing. "Let's go in and see, then," he suggested, smiling despite himself at Kurt's childlike enthusiasm.

And sure enough, there stood Mercedes, chatting easily with a few of the guys. Jim tilted his head toward Kurt, grinning, and she spun around and tugged him into a hug immediately. "Hey, white boy! Am I early?"

"No such thing, baby," he replied, grinning playfully. "Have you met people yet?"

"I showed her around. Do you really think I'm that socially challenged?"

"Yes. Because you are." Blaine smirked.

"They've managed to introduce themselves," Mercedes interjected, laughing.

"She was just telling us about that championship game you guys went to a few weeks ago. Sounds like it was pretty awesome," David put in. Mercedes's smile grew.

"Tina's the only one who actually touched the ball, so really, I didn't do much except duck and cover."

"Still, though," David replied, looking genuinely impressed. "That's so cool. I feel like nothing like that would ever happen at Dalton, even if we did have girls..."

"Birdies?" came an enthusiastic squeal from the doorway, as Kurt stole quietly away with Blaine to let them continue their conversation. Then, "Wait, where're the birds?"

"I told you, Britt, the Warblers are _people_," Santana answered, with the kind of patience she only ever displayed with the ditzy blonde.

But Brittany had already lost interest, and was trilling, "Kurtie!" and skipping across the restaurant toward him. "Hi!"

"Hi, boo!" he exclaimed, catching her easily.

Santana made to follow her, only to get distracted after a few steps. "Hey," she greeted the attractive blonde who was standing a few feet away, a predatory smirk crossing her lips.

"Uh, hi," he answered, flushing slightly. "I'm Aaron."

"Santana," she purred, allowing him to take her hand. "And it is _very _nice to meet you."

Everyone began filtering in rather quickly after that, and Kurt watched fondly as Nick immediately involved Mike in a conversation that quickly became an impromptu dance battle. In fact, everyone seemed to be mingling as though they'd known each other all along. "I think it's going well," he announced, with some pride. Blaine, who was listening to Brittany babble about something that may or may not have involved unicorns, nodded slightly and winked at him.

In all honesty, Kurt would have been totally find with not performing at all, but the only way to get reservations for such a large group of people the day of Valentine's Day had been to promise some seriously epic singing. So when Wes signaled to them all, he tore himself away from his conversation with some regret and mounted the stage. It had been decided that since he'd been the one to put this together, he'd be the one to introduce them (and besides, he knew exactly what to say- -what he, and the rest of his relationship-challenged friends, needed to hear), so he wandered comfortably over to the mic.

"For you Breadstix patrons who don't know who I am, I am Kurt Hummel, and welcome to my first ever Lonely Hearts Club dinner." He smiled as a few people chuckled warmly. "Whether you are single with hope, or madly in love, or here because I forced you to come out and support me, sit back and enjoy. And for all us singles out there...this is our year."

Blaine beamed at him as he scurried back to his spot, tapping his chest with playful warmth before getting into his own place.

Kurt knew immediately that 'Silly Love Songs' had been the perfect choice. Blaine worked the restaurant like he owned it, weaving between tables and smiling at people so charmingly that it ought to have been illegal; and when he rejoined the stage, he locked eyes with Kurt and sang the "I love you" part of the chorus...directly to him. Kurt's breath caught, heart flip-flopping madly, and he forced himself to look away. _Lonely Hearts Club. This means single. This means 'hello, the guy you've been in love with since October just recently realized he wasn't in love with some ridiculous hipster, so don't even try it,' _he reminded himself sternly, but he couldn't suppress the fluttery, happy butterflies swarming in his stomach. Thankfully, Blaine looked away and continued to wander aimlessly around the restaurant for a while; but then, all of a sudden, he was back, this time serenading Kurt with the bridge. "Love isn't silly, it isn't silly, no...love isn't silly at all!" he sang, finishing with the absolute goofiest grin Kurt had ever seen. He giggled despite himself, bounding off the risers before Blaine could do anymore ridiculously adorable things. Instead, he beelined right for his girls, and Rachel, beaming, opened her arms wide. Heart swelling with happiness, he leaned over to embrace both her and Mercedes, holding them tight for a moment as he sang. They giggled, snuggling in close. And though he was tempted to just not let go, he knew he had to eventually get back onstage, so he released them. Forming a heart with his hands in a wordless _I love you_, he backed away from them, shushing them teasingly when they laughed even harder.

As the number drew to a close, Kurt allowed himself a few seconds of self-congratulation: Nick and Jeff were none-too-subtly holding hands as they sang, and the rest of the Warblers, single though most of them were, seemed completely delighted. Even his New Directions friends, who were usually completely wrapped up in drama of one kind or another, were swaying and grinning happily.

The entire restaurant burst into applause as the last note faded into the air, and Kurt sighed happily. _What an amazing way to spend my least favorite holiday._

_**Yayyy, Neffy macking! ;D (There is more of this on my tumblr, if you're interested. Link in my author page, and on a few of the other chapters. :)) Next chapter, the Hudmels move (which I'd have forgotten about, but I was rereading Keitorin Asthore's glorious fic, "Someday You Will Be Loved," and then realized that that actually is kind of important), Blaine and Kurt go see the Fame Monster in concert, and something Very Significant happens that will explain Blaine's behavior in BIOTA. ...Holy God, this is a long author's note, I am so sorry.**_


	14. The Shirt, Though

The weeks slipped by without much to note. Kurt had hoped that maybe his confession on Valentine's Day would have gotten Blaine thinking, but there was no noticeable change in his behavior. Which was good, he guessed, because technically, Blaine could have pulled a Finn and freaked out (albeit for different reasons). Still, he'd been hoping that maybe...well, it didn't matter, anyway. They were just as close as they'd been before, if not more so. In fact, he was in Blaine's room at this exact moment, trying to ignore the fact that he had obligations because it was much more interesting to watch Blaine play his way through his rather extensive Disney repertoire.

Blaine looked up from his guitar to catch his eye, grinning. "Hi."

"Hi, you." He laughed despite himself. "Do you know every Disney song ever written?"

"Nah, 'm not that cool." He chucked self-deprecatingly. "Sorry. Am I distracting you?"

"_Distracting _is not the right word. Try _entertaining_. That's a lot closer."

"You should sing with me."

_We sing flirty duets..._But he couldn't say no. Not now. Not when Blaine had this hopeful little gleam in his eye that was basically the most adorable thing he had ever seen, and there was a rogue curl flopping lazily onto his forehead. "Okay."

"Any requests?" he asked teasingly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Blaine, aside from you, I'm pretty much the king of Disney songs. I will know anything you play."

"Oh, damn, I have no idea what you said that reminded me of this, but I just realized...we're finally having that victory party from sectionals, Sunday. I guess it's kind of a pre-regionals celebration, too. Wes asked me to tell you, 'coz he forgot this morning."

"...not that I'm complaining, at _all_, but that's not for a few more weeks."

"Right, well, everybody's too paranoid to risk partying too close to the competition." Blaine grinned sheepishly. "Guess we're all kind of superstitious."

"Hey, I'm not judging. I totally understand," Kurt assured him. "Only I don't know if I can be there. I'm moving into my new house this weekend."

"Oh!" His eyes widened. "I should've known that, I remember you telling me..."

"It came up kind of fast on me, too." Kurt abandoned his stack of books (which he'd been ignoring anyway) and crossed the room to join Blaine on his bed.

"How are you feeling about it?"

"Fine, at the moment, but I can't make any promises about how I'll be feeling this weekend while it's actually happening. I'm leaving right after class on Friday so that we have all weekend to get our stuff into the new house..." He sighed, staring blankly at the floor.

"Well, hey, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm always here for you."

"I know. Thanks." He glanced up, half-smiling. "Can we sing now?"

* * *

It was weird to be home now- -most of the ground floor had already been completely packed up, and there were cardboard boxes piled up against the walls. "Hi, sweetie!" Carole greeted him, bustling over with a roll of packing tape hanging from her wrist to hug him hello and kiss him on the top of the head."Your dad went out to get pizza for dinner, since most of the kitchen stuff's already packed. How was school?"

"It was good. They're keeping us busy getting ready for Regionals and everything."

"Oh, yeah, Finn was talking about that. That's soon, isn't it?"

"In a few weeks," he confirmed, nodding. "Where _is _Finn?"

"Downstairs, packing up his half of the basement. Or so he says, at least," she added with a conspiratorial wink.

He laughed, keeping his eyes on his stepmother so that he couldn't see what remained of his childhood home. "I guess I should get down there and try to make him do something productive."

She smiled back. "I'll be upstairs working on the bedroom if either of you needs me."

As he'd expected, Finn was sitting on the couch, his side of the room strewn with stuff that he'd obviously begun to pack before he'd lost interest, watching ESPN. "I'm glad you're being so organized about this," he said dryly, examining the haphazard piles tossed into overflowing cardboard boxes. "You are taking up more than your share of these boxes, Finley."

"Don't call me that," he complained, popping a Dorito into his mouth and switching off the TV. "I'm still kind of sick, so I just needed a quick break, okay?"

"Who said anything about what you were doing?" Kurt rolled his eyes, grabbing the nearest box. "That's what you get for going through with that stupid kissing booth idea, anyway. You don't know what half these girls have been doing with their mouths."

Finn shuddered. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly think of that."

"Doesn't explain why Quinn ended up with mono, too, though," he pointed out as he deftly began folding his clothes. "Because I _know _she wouldn't've paid a dollar to kiss you."

"Oh yeah...funny story about that." Finn scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

His brow furrowed. "Wait, she didn't...did she?"

"Yeah."

Kurt dropped the cashmere sweater he'd been folding. "What? What about Sam?"

"He was there," Finn admitted, biting his lip. "I think they were having some kind of fight about me or something, so she was gonna prove him...um...wrong."

"And she thought by kissing you, _in front of her boyfriend, _she would be able to do that?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Dunno, but then she ended up meeting me in the auditorium and...yeah."

"I don't know what _yeah_ means," he retaliated, a little hysterically.

"We made out, okay?" Finn burst out, and Kurt actually sank back onto the couch.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Why? Why is that so hard to believe?" he demanded defensively, and Kurt smacked him upside the head.

"She cheated on _you_, you idiot, why would you _ever _help her cheat on anyone else? Don't you remember what a mess you were?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Finn frowned. "But...I mean...I didn't do what Puck did. There's no way she could..."

"You honestly think that makes it any better?" he snapped, tossing a throw pillow at him.

"Hey, stop, I'm sick," Finn whimpered, putting his hands up in a lame attempt at blocking any further projectiles.

"You are _recovering," _Kurt corrected him primly, getting back to his feet. "And you wouldn't even be in this position if you had any self-control whatsoever. Are you trying to make Rachel completely lose her mind?"

"What does Rachel have to do with anything?"

"You broke up with her because of Puck, and now you're being a massive hypocrite," Kurt accused, the reverent way he was currently packing his clothes contradicting the bite in his voice. "Also, she's still convinced she's going to get back with you. This will kill her."

Finn frowned, wrapping a worn blanket around his shoulders. "...I guess I kind of screwed up, didn't I?"

"Kind of," Kurt echoed sarcastically. "Did you forget that we're trying to get everything into the new house tomorrow? Because it looks like you haven't really packed anything."

"Oh, crap!" he exclaimed, and leapt up immediately.

By the time Burt had returned with the pizza, Kurt had managed to get most of his clothing packed safely away, and was playing Call of Duty with Finn in his attempts to procrastinate on getting the rest of his stuff taken care of. There would be photo albums and momentos of his childhood, and he wasn't sure he could handle that just yet. It didn't even bother him to get soundly trounced by his stepbrother, because, as he loftily reminded Finn after a particularly humiliating defeat, that just meant he had a lifethat he wasn't wasting in front of the TV. Finn just laughed, hit him with a pillow and challenged him to a race up the stairs. He dawdled over his food as long as he could, frittering away time by volunteering himself for kitchen cleanup while Finn disappeared downstairs, mournfully announcing that he was going to go pack the videogames now, promise.

Kurt had just rewashed the table for the third time when Burt came up and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, kid, how you holding up?" he asked gruffly, and a lump immediately rose in Kurt's throat.

"Okay," he forced out. "I still- -I haven't gotten to m-my old stuff yet, so..."

"I know," he murmured, pulling his son into a tight hug. "It's really hard. It sucks. But we can't all live in this house, and...and we're still keeping all your mom's stuff. Nothing'll happen to any of it. I promise."

"I know," he whispered, his voice tiny. His dad understood, that much was clear, and for a second, he almost asked if Burt would mind helping him with all those childhood possessions that he was so reluctant to shut away. But he swallowed it back and freed himself from his father's embrace with effort. "Well, I should go get back to it."

But Burt knew his kid like the back of his hand, and about a half hour later, he slipped quietly down the stairs to see how he was holding up. Sure enough, Kurt was hunched over next to a box that was half-full, head hanging low over the open photo album he held in his lap. Finn sat next to him, patting him uncertainly on the shoulder; when he noticed Burt approaching, he gave Kurt one last comforting squeeze and vanished, looking mildly relieved. "What're you doin', scooter?" Burt asked quietly, taking Finn's place and wrapping an arm around his son.

"Just looking," Kurt choked, a lone teardrop falling onto one of the laminated pages.

Burt bit his lip, heart aching. He _could _try to convince Kurt that this whole process would be a lot less painful if he stopped what he was doing and just finished up, but it didn't feel right. "You mind if I join you?" he offered instead, and Kurt offered him a watery smile and shook his head.

* * *

The next morning, Kurt was roused at the crack of dawn by the arrival of the movers. His dad had ended up helping him with the rest of his things the night before, and though that had made the whole thing infinitely easier, he still hadn't been able to get much sleep. "Gmuh," Finn mumbled, rolling over and wrapping his pillow around his head. Kurt attempted to do the same, but it was useless. He was awake now, no use trying to deny it. So he rolled out of bed and wandered toward the stairs, nearly killing himself on one of Finn's poorly-placed boxes.

"Morning, sport," his father greeted him. "Carole's making pancakes."

"And I'm putting fruit in them whether you like it or not," she told him teasingly. "Kurt, sweetie, what do you want in yours?"

He grinned despite himself. "Whatever you're putting in my dad's I think."

"No problem," she chirped. "Do you mind going to wake Finn? I think we're going to try to get started around eleven, and if we don't wake him now, he'll never be ready in time."

"Sure," he sighed, and returned downstairs; he woke Finn by alternately poking him and hurling pillows at his head. "Let's go, breakfast."

"Food?" Finn asked blearily, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Move it, or I'll eat all your pancakes."

"You don't like carbs," he replied, sounding completely unthreatened.

"I do, too, I'm just careful with how many of them I eat," he protested. "And I think your mom's putting strawberries in them."

"Ooh." Brightening, Finn attempted to sit up. "Okay. Let's go."

Moving in, as it turned out, was not nearly as emotionally draining as moving _out _had been. Physically, it was about a thousand times worse, but Kurt didn't mind a few extra aches and pains as long as he wasn't curled up in the fetal position weeping uncontrollably anymore.

Still, by the time ten pm rolled around, everyone was simply too worn out to continue anymore. So Kurt retired to his (mercifully completely set up) new room and climbed into bed, letting out a happy little sigh as he sunk deep into the new, soft mattress. His eyes had just begun to drift closed when his phone started singing obnoxiously right next to his ear. _You make me feel like I'm livin' a teeeeenage dream, the way you- _"Hi, Blaine."

"Hi." He sounded pleased. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Ringtone. And even without the ringtone, caller ID." He grinned teasingly. "This is the age of electronics, Blaine."

Ignoring his jibe, Blaine asked, "Oh, what's my ringtone?"

"Teenage Dream," Kurt admitted, flushing. "It's the only Katy Perry song I can really tolerate."

"She's not that bad," he responded, but Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. "How are you doing?"

"I am absolutely exhausted," Kurt complained, snuggling deeper under his covers and clutching the phone to his ear. "But I have to admit, the house is gorgeous."

"If you want to rest, we can just talk tomorrow," Blaine offered. "I just wanted to see how it went."

"No, it's okay. I want to talk to you," Kurt protested, too tired to bother editing his thoughts.

Blaine smiled widely; Jim glanced over at him and snickered. "Do I even want to know what you two are talking about? Your whole face just lit up."

"Do you have to be obnoxious all the time?" he groused petulantly, and Kurt laughed out loud.

"Tell Jim I say hi."

He obliged. Jim beamed and called, "Hey! Happy housewarming, kid!"

"Thanks," Kurt replied, muffling a yawn.

Blaine shook his head slightly. "How are you holding up, though?" he murmured. "It must have been hard for you."

"I may or may not have had a breakdown or two," he confessed. "And yesterday was a lot worse than today...the getting ready to leave part, I mean. Mostly because...because I'm afraid of leaving my mom behind, you know?"

The present tense didn't go unnoticed. "You don't really think that, do you?" he asked gently, and Kurt sighed.

"Sometimes I forget things...like what her laugh sounded like, or- -or the way her eyes crinkled whenever she smiled. And being in that house...every room was so full of _memories _of her." His eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut. "I didn't know how hard it would be until this weekend actually came."

Blaine gnawed his lower lip uncertainly. The last thing he wanted to do was say something that was going to upset Kurt even more, and he was kind of afraid that anything he could come up with was just going to sound painfully cliched. "Kurt," he began finally, carefully, "from everything you've told me about your mom, she would have wanted you and your dad to be happy no matter what. She never would have thought that you were leaving her behind."

"I- -I know." He sniffled. "But I'm just...I was so young when it happened, and that house...it sounds stupid, but sometimes I'd wake up and actually forget for a second, because she was always so _present _there."

"That doesn't sound stupid at all. It's totally understandable."

"Anyway," he continued, working to sound upbeat, "my new room is going to be fantastic. I can already sense this."

Recognizing a desperate need for a change in topic, Blaine followed him agreeably. "I can't wait to see it."

"I can't, either," Kurt announced, and Blaine let him babble on about color schemes and decorations for a while, because as long as it made him feel better, why object?

* * *

"Were you on the phone last night?" Finn asked, lounging against Kurt's doorframe, watching his stepbrother repack to return to Dalton.

"Yeah. Could you hear me?"

"Couldn't hear what you were saying, but I heard you mumbling." He shrugged. "Who were you talking to?"

Kurt arched an incredulous eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Blaine," Kurt replied, shrugging into his jacket with a small shudder of distaste. Never, ever would he get used to wearing polyblend clothing.

"Oh." Finn blinked at him. "At night?"

Huffing, Kurt turned to him. "Yes, at night. He wanted to see how the move-in was going. Don't freak out."

"Who's freaking? I'm not freaking. I'm just asking."

"We are _just friends_, Finn," he snapped, yanking viciously on his tie. "And that's all we're ever going to be."

The light of understanding finally flickered on in Finn's mind. "You like him, don't you."

It wasn't a question. Kurt made a face. "I thought that was already clear."

"You never told me though." Finn grinned dopily. "So now I know for sure." A flash of worry. "Wait, does he know? Does he know and he's being a jerk about it? Because if he is then Puck and I will totally kick his ass, and- -"

"Finn. Calm," Kurt interrupted, holding both hands up in a _halt _gesture. "He's not being a jerk. He's being...a friend."

"So why're you so upset?"

"'M not upset."

"Uh huh. Your eyes are all squinchy and you were listening to that song from that one show earlier. And you only do that when you're upset about something."

"If you're talking about Act Two of the OBC version of _RENT, _that is such a lie. I listen to that all the time," Kurt objected, half-truthfully.

Finn studied him. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Just really tired."

"From talking to Blaine all night?" There was a teasing quirk to Finn's lips now, and Kurt let out a fondly exasperated groan and kicked him gently.

"Whatever. Get out of my way, I gotta go."

But, of course, this was Kurt's life, and things couldn't be easy for long periods of time. So naturally, when he turned the keys in the ignition, nothing happened. "The fuck?" he muttered, puzzled, giving another experimental twist. Still, nothing. _Maybe I grabbed the wrong keyring, _he thought, even though the little _Wicked _keychain hanging from it assured him that it was, in fact, the right one. By ten minutes later, he was forced to give up and go back into the house. "Dad?"

"What's up, scooter? I thought you left."

"My car won't start."

"Oh hell," Burt mumbled, shaking his head. "Was it acting funny recently?"

"No, not at all." He grimaced. "I don't see how, but maybe the battery's dead."

"I'll check it out," his dad promised. "But I probably won't be able to get to it until tomorrow. Why don't you let your brother drive you back?"

"Huh?" Finn asked, half a sandwich hanging from his lips.

"You're gross," Kurt replied, wincing. "Can you drive me back to school? My baby's unresponsive." Finn looked confused, so he sighed and clarified, "My car won't start, Finn."

"Oh! Oh, sure, dude, just give me like two seconds."

"Thanks."

* * *

They had only been in the car for a few minutes when Finn spoke up again. "Sorry if you thought I was trying to be all nosy and stuff before."

Kurt did a double-take. "Wait, wait, pause. Did you just apologize for something?"

"Hey," Finn protested, and Kurt laughed.

"I'm just kidding. It's okay."

"I guess I wanted to know coz I was so bad about everything with Karofsky," Finn confessed. "So I wanna make sure you're definitely okay now."

_Oh. _Moved, he put his hand gently on Finn's shoulder. "Thanks, Finn. I'm okay now, I promise."

"Good." He relaxed. "We're happy as long as you are. We still miss you, though. Even though it's been a while."

"I still miss you guys, too. It's weird, competing against you. It feels wrong."

Finn actually flailed a little; Kurt tried not to flinch too noticeably as the car reacted to his spasmodic movements. "I know, right? Plus, when you're not around to smack me, I start doing stupid stuff without thinking about it."

"Apparently," he answered dryly, snickering.

They chatted casually for the whole rest of the ride, topics ranging from a comparison of cafeteria food to Kurt's increasing worry for Rachel's mental stability, and before he knew it, they were pulling into Dalton's parking lot.

"Do you want me to walk you in?" Finn asked awkwardly, rocking back on his heels as Kurt swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and closed the car door with a muffled thud. But before Kurt could answer, someone nearby let out a shout.

"Hey, Kurt!" It was Aaron, grinning brightly as he jogged toward them. "You made it back!"

Surprised, touched by his enthusiasm, Kurt smiled. "Yeah. Were you looking for me?"

"Didn't Blaine tell you about the thing?" he asked, pausing. "We're all gonna- -oh, hi, sorry, I'm Aaron," he interrupted himself, holding a hand out to Finn.

"I'm Finn. I'm Kurt's stepbrother," he answered, looking vaguely confused.

"Nice to meet you." He offered a blinding smile, and Finn nodded.

Kurt hugged him. "Thanks for driving me, Finn. Really."

"You never believe me when I say it's no problem," Finn complained, making Aaron laugh quietly. He grinned back, kind of pleased with himself. "See you around, dude."

Aaron saluted him. "Yeah, see ya. Hey, maybe we can all hang out after Regionals or something, if y'all want."

"Yeah, that'd be really cool. Maybe we'll do that." He ruffled Kurt's hair, ignoring the countertenor's squawk of protest. "Bye, bro. Be careful."

"Bye, Finn."

"We're all in Warbler Hall," Aaron said cheerfully, when Finn had loped off. "I think they're playing Smash or something, c'mon." Kurt fell into step with him easily, grinning despite himself when they arrived. Kurt had never seen this room, or its occupants, looking so disheveled. There were heaps of food covering the tables, the floor littered with plastic cups; the boys, all casually dressed, were completely enraptured by whatever activity had caught their interest, and were draped all over the furniture, talking and laughing loudly. Nick, Jeff and Jim were, as Aaron had promised, playing a rousing game of Super Smash Brothers that had most of the others gathering around to shout obscenities at the screen.

Aaron let out an earsplitting whistle, yelled, "Hey losers, Kurt's here!" and promptly bounced off to go get some food. Distracted by the novelty of his sudden arrival, most of the spectators abandoned the game, however briefly, to shout greetings or come over to clap him on the back and ask about his weekend. Even Jeff wheeled around, beaming. "Hi! You're back!"

"Geez, you'd think I'd been gone a week," Kurt laughed, kind of overwhelmed by their reactions; there was an explosion on screen before Jeff could answer, and Kurt winced. "I think someone just killed you."

"What?" Jeff whirled around again with a howl. "What the hell, you assholes, that's not fair!"

"Yeah, yeah, we're glad Kurt's here, too, but we are in the middle of a _round_ here, Jeffrey," Jim scolded.

"But hi, Kurt!" Nick piped up, eyes still glued to the screen. "We'll hug you later."

"Don't mind them, their priorities are hopelessly skewed." Blaine snickered, handing Kurt a Diet Coke. "Hi."

"Hi." He set the can down and wrapped his arms around his friend. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. The first time I went home for the weekend, Finn and Puck were playing something, and they didn't even notice I was back for like an hour."

"Lovely." He shook his head, looking vaguely amused

Another loud explosion, and an outburst of rather disgraceful language from Jim. "Aw, fuck this," he whined, tossing the controller away violently. "You guys suck. I'm getting food."

"Want to play?" Kurt offered slyly; Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"Sure," he said agreeably, and then hollered, "Dibs on the next game!" Kurt jumped, and he shrugged. "That's the only way we'd've had a shot, trust me."

"Who's playing you?" Wes demanded, clutching one of the controllers protectively.

"Kurt."

"You can play too, if you want," Kurt shrugged, sipping his soda casually.

"Yay!"

"And he is officially a six-year-old," Kurt muttered, playfully snide. "C'mon, let's do this."

Blaine wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he _certainly _wasn't prepared to have his ass handed to him on a silver platter. Especially not with Kurt reclining unconcernedly in his chair, legs crossed at the ankle, only his face betraying anything other than complete relaxation.

"Holy shit," Wes yelped, punching the buttons desperately. "How are you even doing that right now?"

"You'd be surprised how much you pick up from watching your brother's epic Smash battles," he answered proudly, his on-screen alter ego effortlessly tossing Wes off a building. He whimpered, making his character flee. "How come you're not targeting Blaine, you cheater? Prejudice! Prejudice!"

"I'm almost dead, Wes, shut up! He's not showing _any mercy_," Blaine protested, kicking him the instant he reappeared on the screen. Kurt cackled and fell back, letting them have at each other.

Three games and two victories later, Nick the only one who could boast success against Kurt's Mad Smash Skills, Kurt tired of the game and handed his controller off to Thad.

Kurt spent a delightful few hours of casual conversation, mostly with Blaine, Nick, Jeff, and Jim, until all of a sudden, Blaine was murmuring, "Hey," and shaking his shoulder gently. "You passed out on us."

"'M'awake," he argued, rubbing his eyes. "Just closed my eyes for a second."

"Well, you should get some sleep, then," Nick answered, looking amused. "Because you look totally exhausted."

He would have protested, but his whole body felt kind of heavy and he couldn't make the words come out. Blaine laughed softly and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon, sleepy, I'll walk you back to your room."

"Thanks," Kurt slurred, waving limply to the others. Blaine wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright; despite his tiredness, Kurt's skin tingled where they waited until he'd managed to open his door, and Kurt mumbled, "Y'wanna c'min?"

"If you want me to," Blaine answered agreeably, as though there was any chance he would have been able to deny the adorable puppy dog look on Kurt's face.

"You should. You should come talk t'me." He yawned enormously.

Blaine nodded, turning around so that Kurt could change. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. 'm surprised," Kurt admitted, yanking on an oversized t-shirt he would only ever wear for bed. "I didn't expect everybody to care so much that I was here."

"Of course they do! Why wouldn't they?"

Kurt shrugged, crawling onto his bed and wrapping his arms around his pillow. "Dunno. I sometimes kinda feel like an afterthought, I guess, but everybody's known each other forever, so I guess that makes sense." He snuffled a little and curled up. "But they're always nice, too. So maybe I'm just being silly."

"Everybody loves you, Kurt. I promise. And usually, being a Warbler isn't so stressful...there've been a lot of crazy things going on this year, that's all."

"Right." Kurt grinned sleepily. "...kay."

He smiled slightly, carefully pulling Kurt's blanket up to cover him. "Do you want me to stay 'til you fall asleep?"

"Sure."

So Blaine perched lightly on the edge of his bed and sang quietly, random snatches of whatever songs popped into his head, until he was sure Kurt was asleep. He'd worry about the fact that Kurt apparently still felt out of place later.

* * *

Throughout the week, he kept trying to talk to Kurt about it. But each time he tried, Kurt either quickly changed the subject to something else, or blurted out something like, "Really, though, you can't believe a word I say when I'm tired like that," made up some excuse, and bolted. And maybe that party had been all he'd needed, because he seemed to be talking to the others a lot more. By the day of the concert, he seemed completely back to normal.

"You do realize you can't wear your uniform to a Gaga concert, right?" Kurt asked playfully, reclining against his pillows.

"I know." He bit his lip. "What _do _I wear, though?"

Kurt studied him for a moment. "I don't think you could pull off Finn's shower curtain dress...maybe you shouldn't go full-out Gagawear."

"I feel like all my clothes are too prep school for this," Blaine fretted, pouting. "Especially compared to you. You look fantastic."

Preening, Kurt flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his shimmery silver tunic. "Hey, if you want, you can borrow something of mine."

"...how could I fit into anything of yours, though? We're built completely differently."

He shrugged, bouncing off the bed. "You'd be surprised how much clothing I actually own, Blaine. There's probably at least one thing in here that never fit me to begin- -oh, holy crap!"

"What? What's going on?"

"I totally forgot I even _owned _this," Kurt explained, tugging a vibrantly purple tee from his closet. "I bought it online, and for some reason, the sizing chart was totally screwed up, so it doesn't really fit me. At all." He shook it at him. "Here, try it."

"Oh. Um. Okay." Uncertainly, Blaine shrugged out of his blazer and began unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt dove back into his closet, resurfacing with a wide, checked belt just in time to hear a slightly muffled, "Uh, Kurt?"

He looked over and burst out laughing; Blaine had managed to get the shirt over his head, one arm halfway in, but somehow, it had gotten hopelessly tangled and was now stuck halfway down his body. The sight was so amusing that it actually managed to distract from Blaine's otherwise bare torso for a few seconds. "Need help?" he asked, smirking and skipping over.

"Told you it wouldn't fit," Blaine replied, disgruntled.

"You screwed it up, it's going to fit," Kurt replied laughingly. "I have no idea how you even did that. Here..." He moved closer, intending on disentangling the fabric, but he actually ended up getting really, ridiculously distracted by Blaine's well-defined chest. He snapped out of it the moment he realized that _hello_, Blaine could totally still see him, and blatantly checking him out was probably not the world's best decision. "Sorry," he muttered, hands shaking slightly as he untwisted the shirt. "Help me out here," he added, voice a little stronger now; Blaine obliged by getting both his arms where they needed to be. Kurt carefully pulled the shirt down to cover all that _barebarebare _skin and immediately backed away. "I win," he said, embarrassingly breathless.

"I should know better than to doubt you by now." He twisted the hem around his fingers compulsively. "Does it look okay?"

Kurt, in all honesty, did not trust himself with words. The shirt clung to Blaine's body in all the right places, and the fact that it was actually a little long on him only called attention to the narrow V of his hips. Blaine shifted self-consciously, and Kurt grabbed his wrist, tugging him over to the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. "Keep it," he managed hoarsely, gaze studiously fixed on a random point just past Blaine's ear.

"Really?"

"Blaine." He met his friend's eyes now, incredulous. "Do you _see _yourself right now? Keep the shirt. Trust me."

He brightened, a flush climbing up his neck. "Thanks!"

"No, uh...no problem." _Shake it off, Hummel. You can do this._

Blaine's eyes darted toward the digital clock perched on his nightstand, and he sucked in a breath. "Wow, we should probably get going. Are you ready?"

_Oh. Right. Concert, you're going to a concert. _"Yeah, totally," he breathed, smiling.

They'd gotten there with plenty of time to spare, and yet it was still a madhouse. Kurt instinctively scooted closer to Blaine, part of him illogically afraid that they'd get separated among the throngs of overexcited fans. People swarmed everywhere, clad in Gagawear that would have rivaled McKinley's own from the year before, yelling at the top of their lungs as they met up with whatever friends they'd planned to attend the concert with. Kurt let out a delighted squeal as he noticed the nearby merchandise stand, and after quickly checking his watch to make sure they had time, Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him over to it. (He didn't let go even when they were safely in line, but that was because it was always better to be cautious in situations like this. Wasn't it?)

When they finally got inside the venue, were led to their seats by a twentysomething college student who looked at Kurt just a little too long; unthinkingly, Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand. Kurt didn't seem to notice anything amiss though- -he was practically bouncing as he walked, his head constantly moving so that he could soak in every detail of the place. "These are such good seats," he bubbled happily as he sat. "This is such an amazing place, oh my God, Blaine, thank you so much."

Beaming, Blaine sat next to him. "Okay, now I'm _really _glad you brought me with you," he teased. "It's totally worth it just to see your face right now."

Still bouncing up and down like a little kid on Christmas morning, Kurt stuck out his tongue. "You'll love her. You'll see."

The concert itself was like nothing Blaine could have possibly imagined. He knew most of the Fame Monster's songs from all the time he'd been spending around Kurt, but the whole experience was among the most theatrical and intricate he'd ever seen. The entire show was performed in the style of a musical, complete with plot twists and over-the-top costumes, and the end came much too soon. He glanced over at Kurt as the lights came back up to find his friend still staring wide-eyed at the now empty stage. "You win," he said, a little hoarsely, and Kurt jumped.

"What, sorry, I think I went into shock a little."

He laughed. "You win. She's unbelievable."

"I told you," he sang, bopping Blaine lightly on the nose. "Oh my God, I can't even believe that just happened. I just- -we just saw _Lady Gaga. _In concert. We _breathed the same air _as her!"

"You are too cute." He said it without thinking, and blushed rather violently the instant it had left his mouth.

Kurt's eyes widened, his own cheeks tinging pink. "Thanks."

He held Blaine's hand on the way back to the car, too, both of them pretending they were still leery of the ever-diminishing crowds; but this time, his heart was beating a little faster, the smile on his face a little wider, than before.

* * *

It was about a week later when Blaine, distracted by his desperate search for his room key, got the phone call. Not bothering to check the caller ID, he brought it to his ear, all the while still rifling through his things.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Blaine." _Well, shit._ His father wasn't exactly the type to call just for a chat, and there was a strange undertone to his voice that confirmed that this was no casual call. Hand closing around the small piece of metal at last, Blaine sunk back onto the couch and braced himself for what was almost certain to end up a confrontation.

"Dad. Hi."

"I heard you went to a concert the other day."

_Wow, no beating around the bush, I guess. _"I did. A friend of mine invited me." No need to mention his own role in the whole thing. His mother knew, of course, because she'd been the one to help him get the tickets, but Blaine doubted she'd have mentioned it. Actually, he was surprised his father had found out about the concert at all.

"Who did you go with? Wes? David? Jim?"

Jesus, here it was. Hand curling into a fist, Blaine worked to keep his voice even. "Kurt."

"Oh." A weighty silence. "Have I met Kurt?"

"No," he replied, getting up again and quickly vacating the commons. There weren't many people around, but this was deteriorating a lot faster than he'd expected, and he didn't particularly want to be around people when it got ugly. "But I've mentioned him. He's one of my best friends."

"Huh." He cleared his throat. "So what was this concert?" It wasn't what he was actually asking, of course. What he was about to say was going to alter the conversation irrevocably, and there was no way around it.

"Lady Gaga."

"Who?" Daniel Anderson demanded, disbelief soaking his voice. "You don't listen to her music."

Ordinarily, Blaine would have quailed at his tone, but this wasn't just about him anymore. His father was passing judgement on Kurt, too, without even having met him; and that was one thing that Blaine couldn't accept. "She's an absolutely phenomenal performer, especially live. I have a lot of respect for her."

Daniel ground his teeth and changed the subject. "You never called that lovely girl from King's Island, did you, Blaine?"

_Knew we'd get here sooner or later. _"No, Dad. Why would I?"

"The better question is, why _wouldn't _you?"

Blaine closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I don't want to give her the wrong idea."

"And what would that be, son?"

The condescension in his father's voice was what sent Blaine over the edge. "That I'm interested in her, or could ever _be _interested in her. That's not how being gay works, Dad. There is literally no chance that anything will ever happen between us."

"Blaine, for Christ's sake. The only time you ever dated a girl, you were fourteen. You can't decide you don't want any of them just because you didn't meet your soulmate the first time you kissed someone! Do you even understand what you're throwing away? A _life, _a _family_. Don't you want any of that?"

He flinched. It was like his father had hand-selected each word to be as painful as possible. "Of course I do," he whispered. "And I can still- -"

"No. You can't, not really. And no matter how hard I try, I just _cannot _understand why you're still doing this."

"Dad, I'm not _choosing _this."

"But you are! Because there's no other way you could even know!"

No point, no point. There was absolutely no good that could come of telling his father that actually, he'd kissed guys before, so yeah, he had real proof that he was very much homosexual. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke around the lump in his throat, voice choked. "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Yes."

"When did you decide you were straight?"

Silence. He waited, nails digging so hard into the palms that they were drawing blood. At some point, Jim opened the door, took one look at Blaine's face, and disappeared again. And still, nothing.

"Dad?"

"You've made your point," he said finally, gruffly.

But it wasn't enough. "I have to go," Blaine blurted out, and hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

**You guys, I am so doped up on Benadryl right now. I'm really sorry if this chapter isn't up to par.**

**Also, fun fact: Kurt's reaction to Gaga was basically my reaction to Glee Live, when I was there to see it. (!)**

**There are so many more things I should be saying, and I can't remember them, so I'll leave you with a reminder. My tumblr name, as always, is jesski10 if you ever feel like chatting. I'm on way too much, so I'll definitely answer you. :)**


	15. Drunken Behavior Shouldn't Be This Cute

Kurt, meanwhile, was spinning around in his desk chair, trying to drum up the motivation to do his homework, when his phone rang. Startled, he scooped it up, eyebrows inching up when he caught sight of the caller ID.

"Britt?"

"Hi Kurtie!" she sang happily. "I figured out how to call you!"

"Yeah, you did." Kurt chuckled. "What's up, boo?"

"Are you coming to Rachel's?" she asked poutily. "Coz Tana says if she's going, I have to, but it doesn't sound very fun."

Kurt blinked. Rachel had never invited Santana over to her house, and had, in fact, often expressed the opinion that she would rather die than do so. "What's happening at Rachel's?"

"She's having a party," Brittany chirped. "Her dads are going to somebody named Rosie's house."

None of this made any sense. Kurt's heart sank. Rachel Berry did not have parties. This was the equivalent of Sue Sylvester going to Build-a-Bear for fun. And what made it worse was, usually when such random anomalies of the universe occurred, he was one of the first to know; now, he was completely blindsided. It looked like without Brittany's well-meaning obliviousness, not even Mercedes would have told him about it, and he'd never been excluded from a New Directions event before. Not even the all-girls ones. "I don't know," he answered finally, hoping he sounded normal. "Is it tonight?"

"I don't know," she echoed vaguely. "I think maybe?"

"Okay. I...I gotta hang up now, honey, okay?" he asked, curling his free hand into a fist to keep it from trembling.

"Bye," she replied mournfully. "I hope I see you."

"Bye, Britt." He hung up, hands trembling so badly that he misdialed Finn's number three times before he succeeded in reaching him. His stepbrother didn't seem to realize that anything was amiss, if the cheerful way that he greeted Kurt was any indication, but Kurt didn't have it in him to waste much time with pleasantries. "Were any of you going to tell me about Rachel's party?" he questioned, his voice miraculously calm.

Finn spluttered. "Um, it- -it's just a thing. It's not even really...I think Rach probably didn't think it would be your type of...she's calling it a trainwreck extravaganza, or something, so maybe..."

"I'm just confused," Kurt interrupted, "because none of you even mentioned it to me. But I guess...I mean, I really don't- -" his voice caught, and he swallowed hard, "don't go there anymore. So...so never mind, I guess. You don't have to- -"

"No, no, dude, you should totally come," Finn blurted out, recognizing the genuine pain in Kurt's voice. "Seriously, it'd be totally cool!"

"I don't know," Kurt muttered, picking at his cuticles. "Maybe no one told me for a reason."

Finn, clueless though he often was, knew very well that letting this go was Not the Correct Answer. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure what the correct answer would be, either. "Everybody will be really happy to see you," he tried valiantly.

"But I wasn't invited," Kurt pointed out. "I only even know because Britt called to see if I was going."

Relieved, Finn seized onto the opportunity. "See? She wants you there! I think most of them don't really want to go, so they probably figured you wouldn't want to, either, or you'd be busy up there or whatever. It'll be like a cool surprise when you show up!"

Kurt giggled. He couldn't help it. "Okay. Thanks, Finn."

"Do you want me to come get you?" he offered.

"Oh, I have my car, now, remember? Besides..." He bit his lip; this was chancy, but he was still kind of hurt by the whole thing, even though (miracle of miracles!) Finn's explanation had made some sense, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to go alone. "...I was thinking of inviting Blaine, so if he ends up coming, we'd just carpool." Because after everything that had gone down at that concert, maybe a ridiculous party was exactly what they'd need to figure out what was going on between them.

"Oh. Uh...okay." Finn cleared his throat. "I don't know if Rachel's gonna like that."

"Oh, it's okay," Kurt replied smoothly. "You can just tell her I threatened to tell Carole about all the porn I stumbled on when I used your computer that time to do my history project."

He all but choked on his own tongue. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, yeah, it happened." Kurt shuddered delicately at the memory. "I didn't bother talking to you about it then because I was too busy trying to mentally scour my brain with bleach. I was scarred for days."

Finn made a garbled noise and managed to gasp out, "Right, bring Blaine, then."

"Will do," he chirped, trying not to laugh. "I gotta go, Finn. We'll meet you at home."

"Bye," Finn mumbled.

* * *

When Jim walked back into their room, Blaine was still sitting numbly on his bed, fingers curled loosely around his phone. "What'd your dad want?" he asked concernedly. Blaine just shook his head, looking up dully.

"That obvious, huh?"

Jim just shrugged and sat next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Guess so." Blaine sighed. "It was the usual stuff. I don't think I'm up to talking about it, though."

"That's cool." He stood again. "If you change your mind, I'll be on my side of the room, watching _Zombieland _and pretending to do work."

Blaine's lips quirked. "Noted."

The knock at the door surprised both of them, and Jim glanced over at Blaine before he got up to answer. "Hi," came Kurt's voice, and Blaine perked up. "Is Blaine in here?"

"Yeah," he called, saving Jim from having to figure out what he should say without being able to ask. Jim backed up to let him in; Blaine did a double-take. "Are you going somewhere?"

"That's actually why I'm here." He grinned, rocking back on his heels. "Do you want to come to a disaster party at Rachel's with me?" He shot an apologetic look at Jim, realizing too late that it wasn't exactly polite to talk about this in front of someone he couldn't really invite. The other boy just laughed and plugged his headphones into the side of his laptop.

Blaine, who was rather distracted by the clingy material of Kurt's red-orange shirt, took way too long to comprehend this. "Um...define disaster."

"You should go," Jim interrupted. "God knows you need it after this clusterfuck of a week."

"If it sucks, we can totally leave," Kurt added hopefully. "I just really don't feel like going alone." (Jim bit his tongue hard and turned up the volume on his movie.)

"Sure," Blaine relented, and Kurt smiled.

"I'll wait for you in my room," he offered, recognizing the tension in the room.

"Tell him about it," Jim ordered the moment the door had closed.

Blaine shrunk in on himself. "I don't know."

"Blaine, of all people, he'll understand."

"His family's really supportive." He kicked the ground, tugging a cardigan over his t-shirt. "I don't want him to know how bad mine can be."

"You're an idiot. He's going to want to be there for you."

"I'll think about it," he allowed. "I'll see you later."

* * *

The first thing Kurt noticed upon entering the Berry household was the enormous, extremely creepy painting of Rachel hanging on the wall. "Welcome," she greeted them, in an equally creepy, Stepford Wives-esque tone. "Kurt, Blaine...wasn't expecting you guys."

"Kurt's been blackmailing me ever since he saw my browser history," Finn muttered. "He kind of insisted on coming." Which was, of course, what Kurt had coached him to say, but it still stung to be reminded that he technically shouldn't have been there.

"I'm totally off the clock right now, Rachel. I'm not a Warbler, I'm just Blaine," he added, recognizing that she was a lot more wary of him than Kurt. And for good reason, he supposed; he barely knew her. "I'm not even wearing my uniform." She ignored this and led them down the stairs.

"So, this is your dads' Oscar room," Kurt asked, more for something to say than because he really wanted to know.

"Yes, they transformed our ordinary basement for our famous annual Oscar parties," she confirmed, beaming.

"Is that a stage?" Blaine asked incredulously

"I like to give impromptu performances for our neighbors sometimes," she said, catching sight of Quinn as she turned around. "Hey, girlfriend! Having fun?"

"...yeah," the blonde answered, forcing a weak smile. "Awesome...party."

Rachel's face fell. The lack of enthusiasm in the room was palpable, and even she wasn't immune. "O-okay, let's, uh, let's go over the rules...everybody gets two drink tickets to keep things from getting out of hand." She handed them grandly to Kurt and Blaine, both of whom took them, attempting to look interested. "We're serving wine coolers today. T hat's our specialty drink. It's actually...all that we have."

"Are you going to bother?" Blaine whispered once they were out of earshot.

"Absolutely not," Kurt sighed. "I should've known it would be like this. Rachel is simply not capable of throwing a real party."

Blaine stared down at the innocuous little tickets. He hadn't been able to tell Kurt about what had happened with his father, and in all honesty he'd come here hoping he could forget himself in music, socializing, and maybe a little drinking. But it didn't look like that was happening.

Sensing his mood, Kurt lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I'm all for leaving, if you're interested."

"I feel bad," Blaine murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "It doesn't look like anyone wants to be here."

Kurt was saved the necessity of having to come up with a response by Rachel yelling, "Let's party!" and everyone subsequently going completely insane.

"Oh, it looks like they're getting the real stuff," Blaine noted, sounding more than vaguely interested now. "Do you want anything?"

"Um...no, it's okay," Kurt replied quickly. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the Ms. Pillsbury situation, but with his crush. No one else seemed to share his concerns, though- -before long, Santana was doing shots off a half-naked Brittany's body, Rachel was downing wine coolers to rousing chants of "Chug, chug, chug!", and even Blaine, who had ingeniously decided to drink whatever Puck felt like mixing together, was dancing wildly with a cackling Mercedes. Kurt laughed to himself, boogying closer to Finn. "Are you not drinking?" he asked, wondering why his stepbrother didn't even look remotely entertained by everyone's antics.

"No, designated driver," Finn explained. "What about you?"

"I'm still trying to impress Blaine," he admitted, continuing to dance. "Can't get too sloppy." He looked over; Blaine had abandoned Mercedes and was now dancing alone, apparently not caring in the slightest. "Clearly he doesn't have the same concern."

As though intent on proving him right, Blaine tripped over to them and clumsily threw his arm around Finn's shoulder. "Hey! It is _so cool _that you and Kurt are brothers! Right? Like..._brothers!_" he exclaimed, as if he'd never heard of such a thing, and it was the biggest novelty he'd ever encountered. "Wow...you're so...tall..."

"You havin' fun, Blaine?" Kurt shouted, trading amused smirks with Finn.

"Yeah! This's the bes' party everrr!" Blaine cheered, slinging an arm around Kurt's shoulders, then proceeding to trip over himself and nearly knock them both over. "Whoa," he said merrily, dragging Kurt away from his amused stepbrother. "Floor's all tilty n' stuff. Why's it doing that?"

Kurt was laughing too hard to bother answering. "Where are we going?"

Blaine shrugged, and the action sent him reeling. "Come sit on th' couch with me!" And with that, he attempted to sit, a good foot away from any pieces of furniture whatsoever.

"Whoa," Kurt cut in, carefully maneuvering Blaine backwards until the backs of his legs hit the couch. "There it is."

Being way too far gone to have seen this coming, Blaine toppled over with a shout of laughter, yanking Kurt down with him. Somehow, though, he'd managed to entangle their limbs so that Kurt's legs got swept off the ground, too; thrown off balance, the countertenor tried to steady himself and only ended up falling over completely. Which, of course, meant that he landed on top of the already horizontal Blaine. "Sorry," he apologized, scrambling to straighten up before he could think too hard about the position he was in. But Blaine's arm wound around him, holding him there. "I swept you off your feet," he declared, in a low, gravelly voice that sent goosebumps dancing all over Kurt's body.

And then he ruined it by booping Kurt's nose and collapsing into hysterical laughter.

"That you did," Kurt replied dryly, crawling out from under Blaine's arm and sitting upright. Once he had controlled himself, Blaine immediately crawled over and settled his head in Kurt's lap.

"Hi," he said, smiling brilliantly.

"Hey," Kurt managed, heart hammering. "You're really drunk."

"Jusss' lil bit," Blaine slurred, still grinning like an idiot.

"Right." Kurt bit back a smirk, instinctively stroking his hair like Kurt's mom had always done when he curled up with her. It was odd, in the midst of all the insanity around them- -not that Kurt was complaining. Drunk Blaine was ridiculously endearing, but if this was enough to sober him up, that'd be even better. Unfortunately, Rachel seemed to have other ideas.

"Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?" she shrieked, and Blaine lifted his head.

"Game?" he asked hopefully, looking up at Kurt for clarification.

"Game," Kurt confirmed, nudging him lightly to get him to move over. "I'm not gonna play, you go."

"Whyyy?" Blaine whined, stumbling to his feet. "Please come play? Pretty please?"

And even though Kurt was almost positive Blaine didn't even know what they were playing, his heart skipped a few beats. "Okay, maybe for a little bit."

For a while, it was actually kind of hilarious. The already shaky inhibitions of most of New Directions seemed to have crumbled to nonexistent proportions, and even the more prudish types (read: Rachel Berry) had completely loosened up.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. And _of course _Rachel would be the one to bring Kurt's enjoyment of this party to a screeching halt.

Of course she would.

When the bottle first landed on Blaine, Kurt actually laughed. Loudly. "Ohhh, this is out_standing_," he exclaimed, as Rachel drunkenly pointed at Blaine and announced,

"Blaine Warbler, I'm gonna rock. Your. World."

Blaine grinned and met her halfway, giving Kurt a front row seat. Which wouldn't have been such a big deal, except that it wasn't exactly an innocent kiss. As in, there were teeth. And tongues. Lots of tongues. And then Blaine's hand was tangling in Rachel's hair and he was deepening the kiss even more, and Kurt couldn't even tear his eyes away, and why the fuck were they still kissing? "Okay, I think we've had enough of that," he managed, clapping somewhat hysterically.

They separated (finallythankyouJesus), and Rachel murmured, in what she clearly thought was a sexy tone, "Your face tastes awesome." And then, as Blaine grinned doofily and Kurt focused all his efforts on not _actually _screaming and slamming his own head into the wall, she added, "I think I just found a new duet partner!"

Cheers. Kurt slunk away to sit on the piano bench, watching as they clumsily made their way onto the little stage. He supposed he was grateful that they had chosen to sing a peppy song rather than a sappy ballad, but...well, this wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for when he'd invited Blaine to this party.

And it was almost irritating that he could still sing like that when he was so smashed. _Or maybe that's because he's obviously enjoying spending time with Rachel_, the traitorous little voice that lived in the back of his mind pointed out. He huffed, annoyed, and wished for the tenth time in the past few minutes that he hadn't been so set on staying sober.

When the raucous applause had died away and everyone had returned to drinking, Finn wandered over to Kurt. "I think you were right," he muttered, folding his arms and glaring at the now-empty stage. "Are you okay?"

"I guess," Kurt sighed. "I should be asking you that, shouldn't I? You look as unthrilled as I feel."

"I wanna go home," he complained. "But I have to drive Quinn and Puck. Are you gonna bring Blaine back?"

"I'm not in the mod to be in the car that long with him," he replied wearily. "But the only other option is letting him stay with us. He sure as hell can't drive."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Finn objected. "I mean, he's, like...really drunk. And gay. And what if he tries to, like, take advantage of you or something?"

Kurt snorted, watching Blaine take a shot with Puck. "Doubt he'll be conscious enough to bother."

"Still," Finn murmured warily, "I don't like it."

"Well, what else do you want me to do? I really don't want to drive all the way back to Westerville tonight, Finn. I'm exhausted, and he'll probably throw up in my car."

"Okay," Finn relented. "But just be careful, okay?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Kurt. Hey, Kurt. Hey. This is your new house," Blaine announced loudly a couple hours later, tumbling out of the car.

"I know," Kurt replied patiently, reaching over to zip Blaine's coat back up. "Keep that on til we get inside, okay?"

"It's reeeeeeally big," Blaine continued, still staring at the Hudmel home. "It's so prettyyy. Do you like it? Is it nice?"

"Blaine, you've been here," Kurt pointed out. "Yes, I like it."

"Your brother's super tall," Blaine babbled. "And all your friends're _totally awesome_. Did you know that? 'Specially Puck, coz he makes really good drinks. Really really good drinks."

"Okay," Kurt replied, closing his eyes briefly. "Blaine, do you want to play a game?"

"Game? Izzit like th'other game, coz I liked that one," he slurred, puckering his lips and lurching closer.

"No, no, it's not," Kurt blurted, reddening and holding Blaine back. "It's called the quiet game. Let's pretend that if we do anything loud, or say anything at all, it would be...really bad."

"What would happen?" Blaine asked, wide-eyed.

"My dad would get mad at me, and then I'd get in a lot of trouble." Which wasn't even remotely a lie.

"Oh." He nodded solemnly. "I can be quiet. Don't wantchu t'get in trouble."

"Good," Kurt replied, digging his keys out of his pocket. "We're going to start once the door is open, okay?" So, naturally, at that precise moment, Blaine burst out laughing. Frantic, Kurt shushed him, but he was leaning against the doorframe, giggling helplessly. "Blaine," he hissed desperately. "_Please_."

Blaine tried to nod, pressing his hands to his mouth, but he missed and ended up smacking himself in the face. There was an ominous creak from upstairs, and Kurt tensed. "Shh," he said again, gently putting his own hand over Blaine's mouth. Blaine entertained himself by staring cross-eyed at it as Kurt carefully maneuvered him up the stairs and into his room. "I'll be right back," he whispered. "I'm going to go get something of Finn's for you to wear to sleep. You can't leave my room, okay? All the rest of the floors are covered with lava."

"Whoa," Blaine breathed. "How come you can walk on it?"

"Because it's my house," he improvised, and dashed out.

When he returned, Blaine was curled up in the middle of the floor, looking miserable. "Are you okay?" he murmured. "Do you feel sick?" Blaine nodded, whimpering. "Okay. You have to get to the bathroom, okay? Do you think you can do that?"

Another shaky nod, and Blaine crawled slowly to the door, then looked back at Kurt sadly. "Why can't I get in?"

"The door's closed, honey," Kurt murmured, opening it for him. Blaine dragged himself over to the toilet and lay back down, pressing his cheek against the cool tile. "I'll be just through here if you need anything," he added, and slipped back into his bedroom to get changed. He left the door cracked so that he could hear if Blaine called him, which, unfortunately, meant that he could hear him getting violently sick a couple minutes later. Wincing, he finished getting ready for bed and got Blaine a glass of water. When his stomach seemed to have settled, Kurt knocked gently. "Blaine, can I come in?"

"Uh huh." He had managed to sit up now, and was sitting with his face pressed into his knees.

"You need to drink this, okay? It will help," Kurt promised, kneeling next to him and handing over the cup.

Blaine sniffed it suspiciously, then took a tentative sip. "I feel gross."

"I know," Kurt replied. "Keep drinking the water. It will make you feel better."

He obeyed for a while, and then looked up at Kurt through insanely thick lashes and asked pathetically, "Do I have to stay here forever?"

Kurt swallowed back a laugh. "No, of course not."

"Where d'I get to stay?" he asked, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"You mean tonight?"

"Uh huh."

_Oh no_, Kurt thought, pulse racing. _This is not good for my mental stability. _"With me, I guess, when you don't think you're going to be sick anymore."

Blaine pouted. "I don't want to drink this anymore. It makes my stomach hurt more."

"I know," Kurt soothed. "Here, if you take a Tylenol for your headache, you can be done after one more sip, okay?"

"Don't wanna," he complained, turning so that his face was pressed entirely into Kurt's shoulder. "Don't wanna swallow pills."

"How's your head feeling?"

Blaine paused, apparently to consider this, and then made a pained grunting sound. "Ow."

"Yeah, I thought so," Kurt replied sympathetically. "Blaine, d'you trust me?"

"Mmhmm, 'course."

"Take your Tylenol," he coaxed. "Please? For me? And then we can both go to sleep."

"Meh," Blaine protested, but he swallowed the pill, barely gagging on it. "How come you didn't play earlier? You were next to me, then you went away. Where'd you go?"

"You were singing," Kurt hedged, wincing; he'd been kneeling for a while, and the bathroom floor wasn't exactly forgiving. "The game was over."

"Oh." Blaine reached up with absolutely no warning and tangled his hands in Kurt's hair.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Your hair's super soft," he answered dreamily. "Did you know that you're really cute?"

Kurt was pretty sure his heart was never going to recover. "Okay, it is definitely past your bedtime," he said, somehow. "Do you think you can get up?"

He stumbled to his feet, clutching the wall, and beamed at Kurt triumphantly. "I did it!"

"Good job," Kurt praised him. "Can you walk over to my bed?"

He did, wobbling precariously, then fell into bed without even noticing the clothes laid out for him. "Kuuuuuurt, my head still hurts. My everything hurts. Am I going to die?"

"No, you're just on your way to a hangover," Kurt smiled, grabbing the spare blanket off his desk chair and setting up shop on the floor. True, they'd slept in the same bed plenty of times by now, but this was...very, very different.

"What're you doing?" Blaine whimpered. "I don't want to be by myself."

"I'm right here," he assured him. "I'm going to be right down here."

"B-but...but I'm by myself up here," he sniffled. "You're so far awayyy."

Kurt groaned. Sometimes (read: always), he wished he was actually capable of denying Blaine things. Unfortunately, he was a massive pushover, and Blaine was nursing a hellacious hangover, and...well..."Okay."

He'd been in the bed for exactly twelve seconds before Blaine had crawled into his arms and promptly fallen asleep.

Well. It was going to be a hell of a night.

* * *

He woke up to find Blaine's face mere centimeters away from his own, the other boy still slumbering peacefully. Heart hammering wildly, he attempted to slip out of bed with Blaine's arms still wrapped tightly around him, but the shorter boy stirred slightly and opened his eyes. "Where're you going?"

"I'll be in the bathroom if you need me, okay? Go back to sleep, hon," he whispered, heat rising in his cheeks. Fortunately, Blaine nodded, rolled over, and promptly passed out again.

Kurt was in the middle of his morning moisturizing routine when it happened. "Hey, Kurt! Come gimme a hand with these eggs!"

_Crap. Dad. Boy in bed. Crap, crap, crap. _"Be down in a minute," he called back, hoping he didn't sound as guilty as he thought he did.

"What the hell is a shirred egg? Is that the same thing as a scrambled egg?" Burt answered helplessly, voice getting closer with every moment. Kurt let out a quiet moan of despair, both at how hopelessly wrong his father was, and how very screwed _he _seemed to be. Sure enough, the door swung open a few seconds later, and Kurt held his breath, desperately hoping that Burt wouldn't inspect anything too closely.

No such luck. "What's this?" Burt asked, perplexed. "Today was the day you were gonna teach me all about brunch."

_Oh God, one last chance. _Kurt leaned over just far enough to be visible through the bathroom door. "Be down in a sec."

Unfortunately, displaying an impressive knack for choosing the exact wrong moment to appear, Blaine let out a rough groan and emerged from his pile of blankets. "Ugh, where am I?"

"Oh," Burt managed, eyes flicking wildly from his son to the rumpled boy in his bed. "Uh...I'm sorry. My bad." Kurt swallowed hard and locked his gaze on his father, silently pleading with him to understand. But instead, Burt just looked confused, kind of embarrassed, and...disappointed. Kurt lowered his head, cheeks burning, and didn't look up again until he heard the quiet _snick _of the door closing.

"Blaine?" he asked quietly, when the room had been silent for a few minutes.

"Did something bad just happen?" the clearly-still-hungover boy asked, rubbing his temples and wincing.

_Truth or lie? Truth or lie...? _"Kind of?" he offered finally, settling for a combination of both. "Don't worry about it. It'll be okay." He pushed away from the bathroom counter, abandoning his moisturizer, and walked back into his room. "How dead do you feel?"

"Pretty dead," Blaine admitted, wincing. "Did I really make out with a girl last night, or was that a drunken hallucination?"

"No, that was very much a reality," Kurt replied, arching an eyebrow.

Blaine considered this. Weird, but he seemed to remember kind of enjoying kissing Rachel. It hadn't been bad, anyway. Maybe there hadn't been some big spark, but he hadn't exactly been thinking, 'OH GOD GIRL PARTS' the entire time, either.

...well, _that _was going to complicate things.

"Blaine? Hello?"

He snapped out of it. "Sorry, what?"

Kurt held up a refilled glass of water. "You should probably take another Tylenol and eat something. Do you want to do brunch with us?" _Because maybe then we can both convince my dad that nothing happened between us last night._

"Thanks," he answered gratefully, swallowing the pills quickly. "I should probably get back, though. Apparently Jim called me seven times last night just for the sake of leaving me obnoxious messages, and I have every intention of bursting loudly into our room and waking him up while he's trying to sleep off his own hangover."

Kurt laughed despite himself. "Sounds like a fantastic plan. You might want to go out the back, though."

"Will do," Blaine replied agreeably. "And hey...thank you. For letting me stay, I mean. And I'm sorry if you get in trouble for it."

"It'll be fine, don't even worry about it," he replied, fairly certain he was lying.

Blaine grinned, pulled him into a hug, and then walked out.

Kurt fell back against the closed door, squeezing his eyes shut. This was a disaster. An unmitigated _disaster. _But he wasn't granted much time to panic, because all of a sudden, there was nothing behind him anymore, and he was falling back. He let out a startled yelp, and Finn caught him easily. "Sorry dude." He set Kurt back on his feet and yawned massively. "What were you doing, anyway? I thought you were making breakfast with Burt. 'm starving."

"I am," he answered, and trailed numbly after Finn. He absolutely _hated _doing anything that upset his father, especially after the last time. But he just...hadn't thought there was much chance of getting caught.

Swallowing hard, he approached Burt, who was busy swirling the half inch of liquid left in his coffee cup around as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Do you still want to cook?" he asked, voice tiny.

Burt shrugged. "I guess so. It's getting a little late now, so we don't have time to do anything too crazy."

_ He won't even look at me. _"Dad," he ventured quietly, and Burt shook his head.

"Not right now, okay? I think I need a little time to think about this."

"But- -"

"And we _will _discuss it," he added sternly, finally meeting Kurt's eyes and putting one hand on his shoulder. "I love you, but there are a lot of things we have to talk about, now."

But they didn't talk about them. Not for the rest of the day, and not all day Sunday, and the next thing Kurt knew, he was meeting Blaine for their typical Monday-morning not-a-date at the Lima Bean.

"Hi," Blaine greeted him, looking perfectly put together. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

_Awkward and emotionally draining, thanks for asking. _"Fine," he said instead, shrugging. "Nothing like Friday night, that's for sure."

"Yeah, well," Blaine laughed, "I don't know if that's even possible, anyway."

"Speaking of Friday night, how are you not still hungover?" Kurt asked, elbowing him playfully. "I'm actually kind of annoyed with you."

"I didn't drink _that _much," Blaine protested, smirking.

"Are you kidding? You spent the entire night sucking Rachel Berry's face. That, sir, is what we call rock bottom." _Not to mention drunkenly snuggling with me all night and informing me that I'm adorable. _

Not that he had the balls to mention that. Because no. Definitely not.

"Speak of the devil," he smiled as his phone vibrated. "Hi, Rachel." He looked at Kurt meaningfully, still wearing an amused grin. "Kurt and I were _just _talking about you."

"You're so cute, with your blazer and your pants," she half-slurred dreamily. "Soooo, I have a question for you. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out."

"Is she drunk?" Kurt demanded gleefully, leaning close to the phone and attempting to listen in.

Blaine shushed him, his heart suddenly pounding a lot harder than usual. "Um...yeah!" he said decisively, upping his pace just enough to put some distance between them.

"Really?" Rachel all but squealed, and then cleared her throat. "I mean, I thought so. It's obvious that we should explore our feelings, after what happened at my party."

"Uh huh," he agreed, stomach bunching up in a way that he wasn't sure was pleasant. But, well...he really had enjoyed kissing her. And maybe his dad had had a point. Yes, he'd kissed a guy or two, but he still had no idea what it was like to be in a relationship with a person of either gender. What could be the harm in exploring that?

"_Love Story _is playing on Friday night at the Revival Theatre," Rachel announced. "I was thinking we could go, if you want. It starts at seven."

"Okay, I'll see you then!" He was grinning again, he could feel it. That didn't sound bad at all. In fact...this could actually be fun!

"I'm looking forward to it," she purred.

"Bye." He hung up, still smiling enormously. "Rachel just asked me out," he informed Kurt, laughing.

"That is amazing," Kurt squeaked, laughing hysterically. "She's got a girl crush on you!" Blaine got to his feet, balling up his napkin; Kurt grinned to himself as he took a long sip of coffee. Then he thought about what had just happened, and his brow furrowed. "...wait a second. Why'd you say yes? You can't lead her on."

Blaine's heart sank, the joy draining away. "Who says I'm leading her on?"

Jaw falling open, Kurt watched him, desperately hoping that at any given moment, Blaine was going to burst out laughing and exclaim, 'just kidding!'

Nope.

"You can't be serious," he blurted finally.

Blaine shrugged, carefully plucking the lid off his drink and avoiding Kurt's gaze. "When we kissed, it...it felt good."

"It felt good because you were _drunk_," he snapped, but Blaine cut him off.

"What's the harm in going out on one crummy little date?"

"You're _gay_, Blaine," Kurt hissed, leaning closer. This was not happening. There was no fucking _way _this was happening.

"I thought I was, but...I've never even had a boyfriend before," Blaine reminded him, almost desperate to make him understand. His hand was clenched tight around his coffee stirrer, and he stared at the drink, too afraid to meet Kurt's eyes. "Isn't this a time you're supposed to figure stuff out?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this right now," Kurt interrupted, head suddenly starting to throb. It was too much. Just...too much.

"Maybe I'm bi, I don't know!" he exclaimed, meeting Kurt's eyes at last.

It only served to make Kurt angrier. "Bisexual is a term that gay guys in high school use when they want to hold hands with girls and feel like a normal person for a change!"

"Wait, whoa...why are you so angry?" he demanded, hurt and sick and shame welling up in him. Why couldn't Kurt at least try to understand? He was talking like Blaine was some stupid little kid and...and it hurt. _I just want to feel okay._

_Because I'm in love with you, and I told you that. And apparently you just don't care. _"Because I look up to you!" Kurt burst out, which was certainly true enough, clenching his fist under the table to ward off the tears that he knew were coming. "I admire how proud you are of _who _you are! I know what it's like to be out of the closet, and here you are about to tiptoe back in!" _And then what the hell am I supposed to do without you?_

And that was all it took to break him. "I'm really sorry if this hurts your feelings, or your pride, or whatever, but however _confusing _it might be for you, it's actually a lot more confusing for me," he snapped. "You're one hundred percent sure of who you are. Fantastic. Well...maybe we all can't be so lucky."

"Yeah, I have...I've had a _lotta _luck, Blaine," Kurt replied, words falling out of his mouth before he could even process his own thoughts. He clutched his cup like a lifeline, emotion clogging his throat. But he didn't stop speaking. He couldn't. "I was really lucky to be chased out of high school by a bully who threatened to _kill _me."_You held me when I cried, and you told me to stand up and _believe _in myself, and now you're doing _this? _How could you _do _this?_

"And why did he do that?" _Just think. Just listen to me, please. You have to understand. You have to._

"Because he didn't like who I was!" Kurt exclaimed, his entire body trembling.

"Sort of exactly what you're saying to me right now. Isn't it?" Blaine demanded, the anger taking over for a second, only to be hit with another crippling wave of pain again. "I am...I'm searching, okay? I am honestly just trying to figure out who I am." His breath stuttered, and he blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together; but his voice still trembled when he spoke. "And for you, of all people, to get down on me for that? I didn't...think that's who you were." He swallowed hard and stood up. _I can't look at you right now._ I'll see ya," he muttered. "I'd say bye, but I wouldn't wanna make you angry." And he walked out.

The old lady sitting at a nearby table gave what was obviously a disapproving cough- -he supposed she'd been listening in, but he didn't care. Every breath hurt, his eyes were stinging insistently, and once he moved, he was going to shatter. He knew it. _What a mess_, he thought glumly, staring down at the table. How had everything gone so horribly wrong?

He had no idea how long he sat there, but eventually, he felt the familiar vibrations of a phone call. "Hello?" he asked dully, some tiny, desperate part of him hoping that he'd hear Blaine's voice on the other end.

"Dude. Are you okay?"

Not Blaine.

"Fine," he replied. "Why?"

"Because." Paul sounded befuddled. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"...no."

"It's halfway through first block. I was worried. I thought you got into an accident or something."

Surprise, more tears. Shocking. He swallowed hard. "N-no, I'm okay. I just...can you just tell her I wasn't feeling well?"

"Yeah, of course," he promised quickly. "I gotta go anyway, she thinks I'm in the bathroom. But, hey, man, if you wanna talk about it, whatever it is, just let me know."

"Thanks, Paul," he forced out, barely muffling a sob.

* * *

"Whoa," Jim blurted out. "What happened to you?"

Blaine pressed his palms into his reddened eyes, sinking down onto the bed. "Long story."

"Got a lot of time," he answered, in the kind of tone that demanded no argument.

"Not really," he replied thickly. "We're going to be late."

"Look at all the fucks I don't give about class." He shrugged. "And you don't look like you're up for it, anyway. C'mon, out with it. I will mother the hell out of you until you tell me, and you know it."

Blaine groaned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it," he protested. "And then you end up doing something stupid because you didn't want to 'burden' the rest of us with your problems."

"I had a fight with Kurt, okay?" he snapped. "Because I have a date with a girl on Thursday night, and I don't even fucking know what's going on with my life anymore."

Before Jim could even answer, he'd stormed out.

* * *

The week was hell for both of them. Kurt spent most of his time shut up in his room, trying to focus long enough to do his work, but mostly moping. Sometimes Paul tried to talk to him about it, slowly piecing together tiny segments of what had happened whenever Kurt divulged them; sometimes Nick and Jeff stopped by and tried to force him to do something fun, which he did, grudgingly. But it wasn't the same. Most of the time, he was alone, and he hated it.

Blaine wasn't alone nearly as much, but that was mostly because his best friends were on the council and had developed a disturbing tendency to drag him off to 'have bonding time' after Warbler rehearsal, and his roommate was incapable of minding his own business. The bonding time usually masqueraded as videogame marathons or excursions to random restaurants that quickly deteriorated into badly veiled attempts at finding out why Blaine had been so emotionally wrecked lately. He told them most of it, just because he couldn't bear to keep it inside anymore, and even though they seemed kind of surprised, they also didn't seem to be judging him.

Maybe that was all he'd wanted from Kurt to begin with.

* * *

Kurt had absolutely no idea what he was doing as he drove up the Berrys' driveway on Friday night. Well, okay, he did, but what he was doing was probably certifiable. He sighed, punching the doorbell before he could convince himself that this had been a terrible decision that was only going to make him feel worse, brought on by extreme loneliness and temporary insanity.

It was a glowing Rachel who opened the door. "Kurt!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, nothing," he improvised, smiling wanly. It felt like he hadn't used the muscles in days. "I was just driving around, and I figured I might as well stop by."

Her eyebrows inched up, but she didn't argue. "Well, come in. Do you want anything to drink, or some food?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks." This was more difficult than he'd anticipated. All he wanted to do was interrogate her, but this was going to require some finesse. "How's everything looking downstairs?"

"Awful," she admitted, with a tinkling little laugh. "I haven't been able to bring myself to clean yet."

He dashed through the opening once he recognized it. "I could help."

"Are you sure?" she asked, but she was already heading for the door.

_Gotcha. _"Of course, no problem," he answered smoothly.

They'd been stuffing blue solo cups into matching trash bags for a few minutes before she spoke again. "Thanks for helping with the party cleanup. Especially considering that you didn't even drink."

"I was in the neighborhood," he repeated casually.

"At ten o clock?" She shot him a disbelieving look. "Are you sure you're not here just to find out how my date with Blaine went?"

"Oh, was that tonight?" He was trying, and failing, to nail casual surprise.

There was a brief pause, during which she regarded him somberly. "Look, we're friends, so...I'm gonna be honest with you." She hugged the trash can to her chest; Kurt tried not to shudder too obviously, and then wished he hadn't bothered when she broke into an ecstatic smile. "The date was lovely. We saw _Love Story _at the Revival Theatre, we even dressed up as the characters!"

"That's not gay at all," he snarked, still wearing an extremely fake grin and avoiding looking at her. "Did you kiss?"

"No. Our lips spent the evening mouthing Allie McGraw's dialogue," she sighed happily. "Frankly, I did expect a little snog as the date drew to a close, but I guess the timing just wasn't right."

"Or the blood alcohol level," he muttered, giving up on being even remotely supportive.

Rachel drew a deep breath and sat back on her heels, watching him seriously again. "Look, I know that you have feelings for him, and I'm sure you think I'm crazy for asking him out, but...Blaine is obviously conflicted, and if he turns out not to be gay, well then, I guess I will have done you a favor."

_Oh, I cannot believe what I am hearing_. The catty little grin was back; he hated the way it felt on his lips, but he couldn't suppress it. Just like he couldn't stop himself from blurting, "And I'm doing _you _a favor by telling you that Blaine is the first in a long line of conflicted men that you will date, that will later turn out to be only the most flaming of homosexuals."

"Blaine and I have a lot in common," she snapped, composure flickering.

But getting under her skin only fueled his desire to drive his point home. "A sentiment expressed by many a hag about many a gay." She looked away, lips pressed tight together, and he pushed on. "Look, I don't doubt that you and Blaine would have a jolly good time shopping at Burberry and arguing who would make the better Rum Tum Tugger. I don't dispute that. But there's something you and Blaine'll never have." He paused, giving her a moment to soak in his words. "And that's chemistry." _Something that I thought Blaine and I had all along._

"Fine," she replied, nodding. Slowly, a look that Kurt had come to recognize as her Womyn Scorned With a Psychotic Plan expression crossed her face. "Then I'm gonna prove you wrong. I'm gonna take the beer goggles off, and I'm gonna kiss him sober." _Yep. I thought it'd be something like that._ "And when the spark is still there, then I'm gonna take you to a bakery of your choice for a piping hot slice of humble pie."

"Right," he answered sarcastically. "I think you'll be too busy sobbing into my shoulder to be able to drive, personally, but whatever you say, Rach."

Her eyes were practically spitting fire by this point, and he didn't even care. "You should go."

"You're right, I should. But keep in mind...I tried to warn you."

He let the door slam behind him.

* * *

"Souffle is all about the whites. You get yolk in it, or you don't let it stiffen properly, then you might as well be making pancakes." It was Saturday evening now, and Burt had suggested they try a take two of the brunch disaster. Honestly, Kurt had exactly zero desire to do so, but he wanted to deny his dad even less. Especially since Burt had yet to freak out on him about the whole sleepover thing, and he kind of wanted to avoid doing anything that would remind him of it. Even so, his voice sounded strained and disinterested even to himself.

"Alright," Burt answered, either not noticing or choosing to ignore his son's lack of enthusiasm. "Think the one we already made is ready yet?"

"I hope so."

"Alright. Check it out!" he exclaimed around a mouthful of sugarcoated strawberry, reaching into the oven to pull it out. "Here we go...ta da!"

It emerged looking flat and utterly ridiculous. Kurt let out a gusty sigh, irrational annoyance surging through him. "You didn't leave enough room in the dish to let it rise," he snapped, turning away from the failed creation and trying not to think too hard about how much it seemed to be mimicking everything else in his life lately.

Burt drew back, looking frustrated and mildly taken aback. "Hey, I'm sorry. Why are you being so hard on me? I would've been happy with you teaching me how to make toast!"

And dammit, he was almost a hundred percent sure this was going to be a mistake, but he'd always gone to his dad with his problems before, and he couldn't handle this anymore. "Okay, I'm sorry, Dad. I know this is supposed to be bonding time, but...it's Blaine," he admitted, turning to face Burt again. Burt nodded, to show that he was listening, and Kurt charged ahead. "He's interested in Rachel."

"I'm confused. I thought he was gay, too," Burt mumbled, turning around to dig through the refrigerator.

"Oh, he is, he is. He's just...experimenting," Kurt sighed, half-leaning against the counter.

Burt surfaced with a beer and a sarcastic half laugh. "Yeah. He's not the only one."

_Shit, here it comes. _"...what does that mean?"

"Look, I need you to ask me before you have someone sleep over."

"We...we were fully clothed the entire time," Kurt blurted, knowing it was for the best to make that clear from the start. "Blaine was too drunk to drive, so I let him crash here. I was being responsible."

"I mean, you kids are _drinking _now?" he demanded, voice elevating.

"Finn and I didn't have any. If _that's _what you're worried about." He stared hard at his father, silently daring him to push the issue. Was he really going to have to deal with lack of trust from his own father, after this completely awful week?

Burt took a breath, and when he spoke again, he sounded perfectly calm, though a little stern. "No, I'm worried about you being inappropriate in my house."

But he'd told him that nothing had happened, and honestly, it stung that his father would think he was lying. "And if Puckerman had a sleepover with Finn, would that be inappropriate?"

"That's different."

"Because they wouldn't have sex?" he challenged.

Burt's voice rose with renewed exasperation. "No, I would never allow Finn to have a girl sleep over, _in his bed- -" _

"But would it make you uncomfortable if he did?"

"Hey, when have I been uncomfortable with you being gay?"

Kurt spoke so quickly he nearly cut Burt off. "So it's not being gay that upsets you, it's me acting on it."

"I don't know what two guys do when they're together! Y'know, I sat through that whole _Brokeback Mountain..._from what I gather, something went down in the tent."

_Oh good God. _He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his wits. "What do you want from me here, Dad? I- -"

"I want you to apologize for being inappropriate, and promise me you'll never do it again."

Kurt's jaw fell open. _I wasn't inappropriate! _But there was no way for him to win, and he knew it. "Fine. I'm sorry," he said coolly. "I won't have sleepovers with anyone that might be gay without asking you first."

He could actually see his father restraining himself from commenting on Kurt's tone and making this an even bigger issue than it already was. "Thank you."

But there was a hollow ache in his chest that wasn't going away, even when he turned his back and started to remove himself from the situation. Before he could stop himself, he'd turned around and started speaking again. "But maybe you could step outside your comfort zone and educate yourself. So if I have any questions, I could go to my dad like any straight son could."

* * *

Things were slightly strained between them all of Sunday, and Kurt was almost relieved to get back to Dalton. In the middle of the night, he got a text from Rachel that asked, _so when do you think would be the best time to kiss Blaine?_

_**How about never? **_he texted back. _**Rach, I'm not trying to be a jerk, but you're wasting your time. **_

_Neither of us will ever know that unless I try, _she answered, and he could almost hear her self-righteous tone in his head. _But if you want him to be confused forever, I guess it's not my problem._

He groaned. _**Lima Bean. Three thirty. I'm going to bed.**_

She didn't answer, but sure enough, when he walked through the doors of the small coffee shop at 3:25 the next day, there she was. She practically accosted him the moment he walked through the door, dragging him over to a small table and all but shoving him into a chair.

"So you said he comes this way at three thirty."

There was a drink already waiting for him; one of the few perks of this day, he supposed, especially since Rachel _did _know his coffee order. "Like clockwork, for his post-rehearsal medium drip," he reassured her, taking a careful sip. She'd gotten it right.

"I just can't wait to lay one on him!"

Kurt sucked air through his teeth and watched as she enthusiastically layered on lipgloss. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Rachel. I mean...I don't want you to get hurt either." He swallowed, the bitter taste of defeat rising in the back of his throat. "There's no victory in this for me either way."

"Who cares about you, buddy, I may get a new boyfriend out of this who can keep up with me vocally, and in the future give me vaguely Eurasian-looking children!" she exclaimed, eyes wild as she leaned closer.

Thank God, he walked in and spared Kurt the necessity of having to answer that. "There he is," he breathed. "Dreamy as ever."

"Okay. Wish me luck," she whispered excitedly. Kurt suppressed a snort and sat back to watch the show, wiping his clammy palms on his slacks.

Blaine seemed surprised to see her, but he was completely gracious about it. _Of course. _"Hey, Rachel, what's goin' on- -" he began, and she promptly smashed her lips against his.

Kurt's world screeched to a halt, his entire being focused on trying to read meaning into every nuance of what was happening. Blaine pulled away first, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds. "...huh," he managed, staring at her. Nothing. He'd felt absolutely _nothing. _"Yup. I'm gay. One hundred percent gay. Thank you _so much _for clearing that up for me, Rachel." He beamed, relief coursing through his entire body. God, it felt _amazing _not to have to question himself anymore. "Listen, save my space in line, will ya? I gotta go hit the rest room."

Kurt crept up behind her, torn between utter delight and sympathy. After all, it wasn't as though they'd even talked the past week. He didn't have any real reason to be happy about this. "That was hard, wasn't it?"

"Are you kidding? That was amazing," she exclaimed, effectively rendering Kurt incoherent. "I am speechless." _You and me both, sister. "_I just had a relationship with a guy who turned out to be gay! That is songwriting _gold_! Oh- -" she lunged forward and pressed a kiss to Kurt's cheek, leaving him too shell-shocked to react. "Okay, I have to go compose, but thank you. Thank you!"

And before he could even blink, she was gone.

**There's definitely a part here where I just omit one of Kurt's lines because I have no idea what he's saying. xD**

**...honestly, I'm kind of amazed I got this one up tonight, but I'm so tired I can barely even see straight right now, so I'm just gonna skip announcements. (Also, I can't remember what they are.) Remember, my tumblr ask is always open to questions/prompts/comments/whatever! jesski10.**

**I love you all! **


	16. It's Just Too Much

**Quick things, and then I need to go to bed because I told my dad I would do so fifteen minutes ago. 1) "Animal" was supposed to have a lot more detail. I know it's kind of rushed, I'm sorry...keep your eyes out on my tumblr for the full scene. 2) I would have just written the full scene, but it's update Monday, and I really wanted to get this up for you. Everything's been seriously insane lately. 3) My ask box is always open. You can just come talk to me, it doesn't have to be about the fic. :) My tumblr name is jesski10.**

The restroom was, mercifully, empty. Blaine braced one hand on either side of the sink and stared into the slightly dirty mirror, trying to get his heart rate under control. He still looked tired (which he supposed made sense, being that he hadn't slept properly all week); but now his entire body was responding to the relief currently thrumming in his very blood, and he was actually trembling.

Part of him had almost hoped he _would _feel something when Rachel had kissed him, but really, he had no clue what he'd have done if it turned out he was straight, or bi, or whatever. And some tiny part of him had known all along that there wasn't a chance in hell that he had ever been, or would ever be, attracted to girls. He'd just...he'd never known what it was like to have a father who would accept him unconditionally. Who would tell him that no matter what happened, no matter how he felt or what he liked, he would always be there to support him. And he supposed he'd done this because he wanted, desperately, to know what that would be like. Kurt was lucky in that regard.

Oh, fuck.

Kurt.

..._I compared my best friend to the homophobic bully who threatened to kill him. _The relief was all but gone now, replaced with a crippling wave of shame and panic. _Oh, God, he probably never wants to talk to me again. _He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to shake the memory of the pain in Kurt's eyes, the disbelief, the betrayal.

"Oh, God," he muttered out loud, turning on the cold water tap with an almost violent twist. It helped, a little, so he splashed his face a few more times for good measure before he left the bathroom.

Rachel had vanished, which wasn't entirely surprising. What _was _surprising was who had taken her place. Heart jackhammering wildly in his chest again, Blaine took a deep breath and willed himself to move.

* * *

Kurt was sorely tempted to leave. He had his coffee, after all, so he didn't need to stick around. And standing here, alone, knowing that Blaine could be on his way at any moment, made him feel almost painfully vulnerable. But his feet were rooted to the ground; and then he heard it.

"Kurt."

Slowly, he drew a breath and turned around. "Blaine."

"I- -I didn't see you," he stuttered, and then immediately regretted it.

"You weren't looking," Kurt answered coolly, meeting his eyes.

Blaine flinched, drawing back. "I- -"

But it was even harder to be here now, Blaine standing in front of him looking almost painfully contrite, and _Jesus_, he couldn't do this. "I have to go," he blurted out, turning on his heel.

_Shit_. Alarmed, Blaine reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Kurt, please. Can we just talk?"

"What is there to talk about?" Kurt choked out, lowering his head so he wouldn't have to see Blaine's face. Because once he looked into his eyes, it was all over.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. Just...five minutes, and then you can go. Okay?"

"Fine," Kurt relented, heart aching. "I'll go sit."

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. Everyone in front of him seemed to be intentionally torturing him by ordering ridiculously complicated things, as slowly as humanly possible; he must have been glancing over his shoulder every five seconds to make sure that Kurt hadn't left. The barista seemed to notice his worry, because when he had ordered (so quickly that he tripped over his words several times), she smiled conspiratorially and slid a huge chocolate chip cookie toward him. "It'll be okay," she murmured, leaving him completely dumbfounded as she busied herself with his drink.

When he'd finally gotten it (and given her a generous tip and the biggest, most grateful smile he'd managed in over a week) and hurried back to the table, Kurt shot the treat an odd look and said nothing. "She...she gave this to me...for you."

Kurt's lips parted in shock, and he glanced toward the counter; the barista quickly turned around and tried to pretend she hadn't been watching them hopefully. "Thank you," he said finally, managing a thin-lipped smile. Dammit, he _hated _this. He and Blaine had quite literally never been this tense around each other, and it sucked royally. But...well, he was still feeling wounded, and really didn't want to be the first to say something real.

"Kurt, I screwed up," Blaine blurted out, before he could think about it anymore. "Last week...I said a lot of things that- -that I didn't mean. And I am..._so _incredibly sorry."

Kurt stared down at the table, his breath catching.

"I never should have compared you to Karofsky," he whispered. "You're nothing like him. You're- -_amazing_. You're my best friend, and you didn't deserve what I said any more than you deserved what he did to you."

"I pushed you," Kurt admitted, toying with a napkin and continuing to avoid Blaine's eyes. "But you're the only other gay guy I've known, and...and having you made me feel like I was _right_, you know? Like it was okay for me to be...the way I am, because for the first time, I wasn't the only one."

"But I shouldn't have- -"

"No, you shouldn't. But what I said about bisexuality was really rude. I have friends who I'm pretty sure are bi, and...Jesus." He laughed bitterly. "Whatever, I'm just...sorry too."

"It's okay," Blaine promised him quickly. Probably too quickly, because Kurt's eyes flashed up to meet his almost disbelievingly. But these past few days had shown Blaine just how important Kurt had become to him, and he was desperate for things to go back to normal between them.

_Tell. Him. The truth. All of it._

_ Right. _

Blaine wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, steeling himself. "I think...that I reacted the way I did, because th-the day of Rachel's party, I got into a huge fight with my dad. He kept saying I'm giving up my future by being gay, and I just couldn't handle it anymore. I really wanted him to be proud of me for once. So I guess I thought I'd give being straight one more chance, because that's what he always wanted me to be. And I just...needed someone to tell me everything was going to be okay."

Kurt's heart sank. "Blaine, God, I am so, so sorry. I didn't know."

"I was afraid to tell you," he confessed, now shredding his napkin compulsively.

For a moment, he was offended. And then he remembered that, faced with Blaine's sexuality crisis, all he'd done was feel betrayed and make things worse, and a sick feeling of shame made him wince. "I wish I had known. I feel awful."

Blaine offered him a wan smile. "I think maybe we shouldn't keep secrets anymore. If- -if you still want to be my friend and I haven't screwed it up too badly."

Dammit, there went his heart again, breaking like that. "I'm hardly perfect, Blaine. It wasn't just you who messed up."

"Is that a yes?"

He closed his eyes. "Absolutely."

"Good." Breathing a relieved sigh, Blaine beamed. "I missed you. A lot."

"I missed you, too," Kurt replied, smiling back for real now.

"Do you wanna go back to Dalton, or hang out for a while?"

But truthfully, Kurt was absolutely exhausted. Happy, yes, because things were finally sorted out, but emotionally worn out. "I would, but I've got kind of a lot to do. Soon, okay?"

"Oh. Sure. Definitely." He hid his disappointment with effort and got to his feet. "Did you drive, or did Rach abandon you?"

"We drove separately. I didn't feel like being in the car with her." His face burned at the inadvertent hint, but he shook it off. It wasn't like Blaine didn't _know_, after all. "I'll see you later, Blaine."

As he walked away, Blaine couldn't help but wish that they'd hugged, like they used to.

Unfortunately, things didn't get much better. They got less awkward, that much was certain, and before long, Kurt and Blaine were hanging out regularly again. But there wasn't nearly as much hugging, and Blaine noticed several times that Kurt seemed to actively stop himself from the casual touching that had become so much a part of their relationship. Even Jim commented on the difference, in a way that only he would.

"What's going on? Usually when I walk in on one of your 'study sessions' or whatever, you're, like, on top of each other. I feel like the world is spinning the wrong way or something."

Blaine never asked Kurt about it, though; he was too busy being grateful they'd managed to save the friendship at all. Besides, he couldn't help but hope that with a little more time, things might return to normal.

Which was why they didn't stop meeting up for coffee regularly. Not doing so just felt _wrong_, extra tension or no. And then, one previously unremarkable day, everything started to change again. "Don't you think it's time for the Warblers to do a Joan Armatrading medley?" Kurt asked, toying with the lid of his coffee cup.

"I'm not so sure people know who that is," Blaine replied, lifting an amused eyebrow.

Scandalized, Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, someone else interrupted. Someone whose voice was very, _very _familiar. "Well. If it isn't my sweet, sweet Porcelain."

Kurt tensed. "Coach Sylvester. What are you doing here?"

"Just pickin' up some coffee. I like my enemas piping hot," she replied casually. Blaine cast a bewildered, slightly alarmed look at her, but she was still speaking. "Actually, boys, I heard that this was a Dalton Academy hangout, and I'm here in the spirit of fellowship." _Oh, Jesus, here we go, _Kurt thought exasperatedly, looking away. Blaine was grinning, obviously under the impression that they were about to get some sort of treat. "As you no doubt have heard, I've taken over for the coach of Aural Intensity."

"We heard you pushed him down the stairs," Kurt answered coolly.

She didn't react, besides a slight quirk of the lips. "Oh, you can't prove that."

Blaine did a double-take, obviously completely freaked out now. "This is just sort of how she talks," Kurt explained.

Sue ignored him entirely. "So. I happen to have some top-secret intel," she announced proudly. "Will Schuester has finally realized that his team's Achilles heel is their utter lack of sex appeal. The New Directions are getting sexy. And the key to regionals is out sexing them." She started tossing random things into her coffee cup; Kurt and Blaine exchanged perplexed looks. "I suspect that the judges are scoring extra for it this year." She appeared, at this point, to just be adding whatever her hands fell on into her drink, which was particularly distressing to Blaine. "So, Porcelain. Quid pro quo...what do you have for me?"

Kurt's jaw fell open. This was actually kind of hilarious. Now that she'd added that little caveat, it was very possible that she'd been telling the truth all along, hoping for some reciprocation. "I'm sorry, Coach, but you and I are not in cahoots."

His suspicions were confirmed when she glared daggers at him and snapped, "Probably should have nailed that down before I gave you my top-secret intel. Porcelain, you just made a powerful enemy." And, sipping from her disgusting concoction, she stormed off.

"We gotta hold an emergency meeting," Blaine blurted out the moment she had disappeared.

_Oh God, not another one. I can't do that again. I won't make it. _"Why?" he asked sharply.

"Weren't you listening? The judges at regionals have an eye out for something new, which _means_...the Warblers gotta do something sexified!" A proud grin bloomed on his face, as though he'd been the one to think of the idea in the first place.

Kurt choked on nothing at all. "Oh, no. No, no, no, we don't," he babbled anxiously. "See, the thing about Coach is, she makes things up when she gets bored. So she probably got tired of torturing Mr. Shue and decided it'd be fun to come pretend she was helping us when actually she was just- -"

"You're rambling," Blaine announced with a fond smile. It was the kind of thing he'd have said without even thinking about it a few weeks ago, and he said it now in the hopes that it would break some of the still-lingering tension.

Kurt shook his head wildly, too focused on preventing this disaster to bother noticing much else. Christ, it was like Blaine was intentionally trying to make his life a living hell. Like he wasn't sexy enough on a regular basis, now he was actually going to channel _energy _into it? "Am not. I'm just trying to protect you from getting dragged into the mess that is Sue Sylvester's epic revenge plans."

But, arguments or no, he knew Kurt better than that. "Are you sure you're not just trying to avoid this for some other reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" he asked, more than a little sarcastically.

He recognized the tone, but he had no idea how to respond. "I don't know, I just think we should at least try it out."

A million snotty comebacks sprang to mind with alarming quickness, but Kurt bit them all back. "I guess there's no harm in that."

Blaine brightened considerably. "Would you really back me up again?"

He flinched despite himself; after all, the last time he'd done so, it had ended in heartbreak and an excess of angst. But then again, what was the worst that could happen? At least this time he knew what he was getting himself into. "...sure."

"You're the best," Blaine announced fervently, hugging him on pure instinct.

A swarm of happy butterflies awoke in Kurt's stomach, and he returned the embrace. "That's what they tell me."

* * *

"Another emergency meeting? _Really_?" Thad asked, glaring down his nose at Blaine. "What is it this time?"

"Thad," Wes warned, the _stop being an asshole _going unsaid because this was a Professional Atmosphere and that would have been Extremely Inappropriate. "Let him speak."

"Thank you," Blaine said formally. "I have what I firmly believe is important information, received from a rival coach."

Excited murmurs; intrigued, David leaned forward. "Go on."

"Kurt and I were having coffee the other day, and we happened to run into Aural Intensity's new coach- -"

"And by _run into_, he means she literally tracked us down," Kurt interrupted. He honestly couldn't help it; the formality in the room was making him itch, and he desperately needed to break the tension.

Blaine blinked. "Right, well, she told us that she has it on good authority that the judges at regionals this year are scoring extra points for sex appeal, and- -"

"Wait," Aaron interrupted. "Are you sure she was serious?"

"It doesn't sound very plausible," Wes agreed, with a barely-noticeable apologetic frown. "From everything I've researched, the higher the stakes of the competition, the more uptight the judges seem to get."

"She probably just wanted to feed you faulty information," Thad added; Wes kicked him under the table.

And damn it all to hell, but even though he kind of agreed with them, Kurt hated watching the council shoot Blaine down _again_. "Actually," he cut in, standing up without waiting to be acknowledged, "I know her. She was my old cheerleading coach at McKinley, and she's absolutely ruthless. I'd say it's extremely likely that she'd do anything she could to make sure Mr. Schuester loses regionals, and that includes leaking information to her own competition. She's done it before."

"So you're really familiar with this woman?" Wes asked skeptically.

"She was my coach," Kurt enunciated clearly. "Trust me. I know her."

"And you think we should try being...sexy?"

"It couldn't hurt to try, could it?"

Wes and David exchanged looks. "Warblers, all in favor?"

Kurt's hand was first in the air, against his better judgement, and slowly, everyone else's inched up as well. Wes banged his gavel. "The motion carries. We'll discuss this at tomorrow's rehearsal."

And discuss it they did. Blaine, Luke, and a few of the other, more theory-savvy Warblers threw together a hasty arrangement of "Animal" by Neon Trees, and Luke approached Kurt at lunch to ask him to sing lead.

"We're giving the other lead to Blaine, obviously, because he can sing everything and make it sound fantastic. But we were all thinking you'd be great for the upper part."

"Really?" Kurt asked, too excited about getting the opportunity to solo to think too long about the fact that this meant he'd have to be sexy _with Blaine. _

"Really." He laughed and handed Kurt a sheaf of music. "Come sit with us. We're all talking about choreography and stuff, and we think Wes actually has a pretty great idea.

"Sure," Kurt agreed, trailing after him.

"Oh, hi, Kurt," Jim greeted him cheerfully, immediately vacating the seat next to Blaine and scooting down a few spots. Kurt blinked, confused, but took the chair.

"Hi."

"I just gave him the music," Luke piped up, grinning. "So before you ask, David, no, he hasn't looked at it yet."

"Hey, I wasn't gonna go there right away!" David protested, hurling a potato chip at him.

Kurt snickered quietly. "Do you guys really want me to sing the other lead?"

"I wrote the upper part with you in mind, actually," Blaine admitted, grinning. "If you want it."

_He wrote it._

_ For me._

"I'd love to," Kurt breathed, heart skipping a few beats.

Jim snorted loudly, Blaine stomped on his foot so hard that he let out a yelp of pain. "Fantastic," Blaine blurted out, smiling as charmingly as he could, given the situation.

"We were actually thinking of contacting the girls from Crawford Country's glee club and seeing if they wanted to watch us perform it. It'd definitely be helpful for us to see their reactions," Wes piped up. "So you'd technically get to solo for an audience. Is that okay?"

"When, today?" Kurt asked, abruptly alarmed.

"Well, yeah. Because if it's not going to work, we need to come up with something else. And we're kind of running out of time here. Would you be okay doing this on the fly?"

"U-um..."

"Hey, you'll be fine," Blaine whispered, letting his hand brush Kurt's ever-so-lightly. "It's not even a real thing. They're gonna freak out no matter what we do. And you already know the song, don't you?"

_Oh, yeah. _He smiled slightly, relaxing despite himself. "Yeah, you're right."

"So you'll do it?" Wes pressed hopefully, and Kurt nodded. "I'll do it."

* * *

"We would like to welcome the ladies of our sister school, Crawford Country Day. As you know, the Warblers are competing in our show choir's regional competition next week. So, what we're going for here today, ladies, is something a little...a little _sexy." _The girls were already starting to smile, looking up through their mascaraed lashes at him, or toying playfully with the hems of their skirts. Kurt worked to suppress the instinctive flare of jealousy and focus on not hyperventilating, because _shit_, Blaine could nail sexy without even thinking about it. And already was. "But we need your input. Are we scream-worthy? Do we make your knees turn to jelly?"

_Oh, God. Yes. Yes, you do_, Kurt thought helplessly, glancing around at the rest of the Warblers. None of them seemed to be nearly as affected by Blaine as he was- -Nick and Jeff were exchanging playfully challenging looks; Wes and David were wearing matching wolfish smirks...in short, everyone seemed genuinely excited about this.

"So hang onto your bobby socks, girls. Coz we're about to rock your world," Blaine finished, smirking.

"It's on," Jeff whispered, nudging Nick playfully; and as the music started, they sprinted for their places in formation. Things were perfectly normal at the beginning; they kept trading flirty smiles and long, teasing looks, basically ignoring everything that was going on around them (though they _did _both notice that Kurt seemed almost painfully uncomfortable the entire time). And then, toward the end of the bridge, Nick nudged Jeff, just barely; Jeff glanced over just in time to watch him slither out of his jacket and toss it into the sea of screaming girls.

It was all over once the bubbles started pouring down; half the guys abandoned singing entirely for the sake of dancing with one (or more, _cough, Jim_) of the Crawford Country girls). Jeff, grinning, grabbed Nick's tie and kissed him deeply. "I win."

"I do believe you do," Nick managed breathlessly, resting his forehead against Jeff's and twining their fingers together.

* * *

"Call us."

Blaine took the slips with a warm smile, but shook his head. "Sweet, but...not your team."

The girls exchanged an exasperated look (equal parts _why are the hot ones always gay? _and _then why the fuck would you take them in the first place?_) and walked away without bothering to say goodbye. Blaine put it from his mind the moment they'd disappeared and crossed the still-bubble-strewn floor to stand in front of Kurt.

"Are you okay? You kept making these weird faces the whole song."

It took all his energy not to look as horrified as he felt. "Those weren't weird faces. Those were my sexy faces."

Blaine furrowed his brow. "It just looked like you were having gas pains or something."

..._fucking perfect. Really. I'm so glad that the guy I've been in love with since December thinks I'm about as sexy as a six-month-old baby. _"Great," he muttered. "How are we supposed to get up on the stage at regionals and sell sexy to the judges when I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby _penguin_?" Okay, so maybe he'd gotten a little hysterical. But really? Did this really have to happen?

Blaine, damn him, just seemed amused. "We'll figure something out."

Kurt glared. "Please don't say it like that."

"Like what?" he asked, befuddled.

"Like _that_!" He flailed a little. "It sounds so...scandalous." _Which is only a problem because it's not._

Blaine paled. _Oh, God, I did it again. _"I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to sound- -"

"I know," Kurt snapped, getting up and violently cramming his dirty towel into his gym bag. "Believe me. Memo received."

"Hey, are you mad at me?" he asked, alarmed.

Closing his eyes as his head abruptly started to pound, Kurt sighed. "No. I'm sorry, too, I'm overreacting." He opened his eyes again and tried to smile. "Do you still want to come over?"

"Of course I do, if you still want me to."

"Do you mind driving your own car? I think I'm going to stay at home tonight."

"...oh." This was...extremely odd, but Blaine didn't object. "No, of course not. That's no problem."

"Thanks," Kurt said, smiling wanly. "Sorry, I know it's kinda weird."

"No, I understand. Don't worry about it. But, I mean, if you don't want me to come over...if you're too tired or something..."

"That's not what I'm saying at all," Kurt protested, sighing. "Look, I'm gonna go on, I'll meet you there, okay?"

"Sure," he replied, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Thank you," was the first thing that Kurt said to him, when they had greeted Carole and Finn and disappeared up the stairs to his room.

"For what?"

"For giving me the chance to sing," he replied, a flush climbing up the back of his neck. "A lead part, I mean."

"I wanted to sing it with you," Blaine answered kindly, smiling. "And you sounded fantastic." But Kurt was staring at the ground, and something was obviously still bothering him. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole way home," he admitted in a small voice. "Were my sexy faces really that bad?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Kurt..." _How do I word this tactfully? _"...they were just a little awkward."

"I guess it's a sore spot for me," he sighed. "I'm not exactly experienced. I guess I just didn't know what to do, you know?"

"Well, hey, if you want, I can give you some pointers," Blaine offered smilingly. "C'mere, come sit in front of the mirror with me."

"Wait, wait, no, maybe not. It's...I can just be awkward, it's okay."

Blaine laughed softly. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly! Hey, you know what we should do? We should watch a movie. Do you wanna watch something Disney?"

"Kurt."

"What?" he asked, a whine creeping into his voice.

"C'mere."

"Do we really have to do this?"

"Well, no. But why keep feeling uncomfortable about something when I might actually be able to help?" He pouted slightly. "Just give it a try, okay? Trust me?"

Kurt groaned and crossed the room in a few quick steps, before he could convince himself otherwise. "Fine. Do your worst."

Blaine bit back another amused smirk and regarded Kurt earnestly. "Alright, so give me..._sensual. _But don't make fun of it, like, really try."

Kurt, thanking his lucky stars that he wasn't the type to blush too noticeably, bit his lip and attempted it. (Probably would have been a lot easier if he even knew how to _do _sensual. Also, if- -hey, go figure- -_his crush _wasn't watching intently.)

Blaine, fortunately, didn't laugh. "Okay," he said seriously. "Now give me..._sultry._" When Kurt had finished this time, he did laugh, a little. "Uh...Kurt, they're all sort of looking the same."

"That's because the face I'm actually doing is uncomfortable," Kurt snapped, getting up and turning away. "This is pointless, Blaine. I don't know how to be sexy because I don't know the first thing about sex."

_Well, damn. I wasn't going to mention that. _And now his cheeks _were _burning, and Blaine was still smiling. Cruel, cruel person. "Kurt, you're blushing," he teased lightly. But Kurt was on a roll now, and definitely not in the mood to be made fun of.

"I've tried watching _those _movies, but, I just get horribly depressed, and I think about how they were all kids once, and they all had mothers, and God, what would their mothers think, and _why would you get that tattoo there?_" he babbled feverishly, flailing more than a little in his desperate attempts to maintain control.

Blaine, who had gotten stuck on the thought of Kurt watching porn for a second, promptly snapped out of it when he realized just how close his friend actually was to a complete emotional breakdown. "Then maybe we should have a conversation about it," he offered gently, folding his legs Indian-style and looking at Kurt seriously. "I'll tell you what I know."

But honest to God, the absolute _last _thing Kurt needed, or could handle right now, was _this. _Because it hadn't been bad enough, apparently, having to watch Blaine be almost painfully sexy earlier, or to embarrass himself by attempting to make seductive faces in front of him; no, _now _they were going to have the Talk.

Hell.

Fucking.

No.

"I don't want to know the graphic details," he blathered, twisting his fingers together compulsively and trying to pull it together. "I like romance. That's why I love Broadway musicals. Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets."

_...did we see the same production of Rent? _Blaine wondered briefly. But now clearly wasn't the time to point that out, so instead, he sighed, "Kurt, you're gonna have to learn about it someday."

"Well, not today," he answered firmly. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears again, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. "I think I've learned quite enough for today, thank you. I think you should leave."

Blaine's jaw fell open, and he stared at Kurt in disbelief. _You're kidding me, right? I'm only trying to help you! _But Kurt was very stalwartly avoiding his gaze, so with a quick shake of his head, Blaine got up and walked silently out of the room.

* * *

**I shouldn't have kicked you out of my house. I'm sorry.**

Blaine had just gotten back to Dalton when he received the message. The relief was immediate, but he couldn't help but still feel a little put out. "Jim?"

"Blaine?" his roommate echoed lazily.

"...dammit." He dropped his head into his hands and spoke to the floor. "Okay. So remember how I told you I had a fight with Kurt a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, and it was brutal and things are still really fucking weird between the two of you. Memo received."

His head snapped up so quickly his neck cracked. "Wait, how'd you know they're still weird?"

Jim looked at him as though he had completely lost it. "Because I'm not deaf or blind, Blaine."

"Right." He sighed. "Okay, whatever. The point is, it was getting better, and now it's really bad again."

"How'd you fuck it up?"

He thought about being offended, but actually, Jim was right. "Um. He was telling me that he's uncomfortable with the whole 'sexy' theme, so I figured I'd...help?"

"Oh, Christ."

"I was just trying to...well, you know...have a discussion with him about it. I thought maybe if he was better informed, he'd feel better about the whole thing in general. But then he threw me out."

Jim fell face-forward onto his bed. "Blaine, can we just revisit the fact that on Valentine's Day, he basically admitted that he was in love with you? Did you forget that you told me that?"

Blaine froze. "Oh my God."

"Yuh. So no shit he's going to feel awkward when you're like, 'hey Kurt, let's talk about sex! Whoo-hoo!'"

"Oh, _shit_," Blaine breathed. "I...really didn't think about that."

"Didn't figure you would have." He sat up with effort. "You should probably leave the kid alone for a while. Give him time to lick his wounds."

"I have to answer him, though. He texted me."

"What'd he say?"

"He was apologizing for kicking me out."

"...so apologize for being a doucheface," Jim offered, shrugging. "Not too difficult."

Groaning, Blaine curled up on his bed and typed, poking morosely at the keys. _**No, it's my fault. I keep pushing you without even realizing it. **_

The response came back much faster than he expected: **...we're a mess, aren't we? :-/**

_**Kind of. But we'll be okay. We've gotta be.**_

There was no answer for a long time, which Blaine knew because he stayed exactly where he was, watching his phone like a hawk and waiting for the familiar light of a text message. (Jim, to his credit, refrained from commenting about how pathetic this actually was.) And when one finally came, it was simply a smiley face.

Probably because neither of them could bear to think about what would happen if they weren't.

"Holy mother of fuck!"

Blaine bolted upright, sending his pillow flying. "What? What happened? Who died?"

"No one died, idiot, c'mere!"

A glance at his clock revealed that it was 8:37 in the morning, which was befuddling for a lot of reasons. "Jim, why're you even up?"

"Stop asking stupid questions and come the fuck here," Jim ordered, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from his computer screen.

Annoyed, Blaine wrapped a blanket around himself and shuffled over to his roommate's desk. "What is so imp- -oh my God, what is that?"

"That, Blainers, is Kurt. On the cheerleading squad."

Intrigued, Blaine yanked his own desk chair closer. "Hit play."

"Oh, _now _you're interested," Jim complained, but he obligingly backed the bideo to the beginning and pressed play.

The first thing Blaine noticed was _holy God _the way that uniform absolutely _clung _to Kurt's body. The way the sass radiated off of him in waves. The way he effortlessly swung his hips, fixing Mercedes with these _smoldering _looks and gyrating against her in a way that made Blaine's breathing get shallower and his heartbeat speed up. And then the video ended, and it was way, _way _too soon.

"...Blaine, are you alive?"

"He- -he- -" Blaine stammered, still gaping unattractively at the screen.

Jim rolled his eyes and tapped Blaine's chin. "I do not need you drooling on my keyboard."

"He said he didn't know how to be sexy," Blaine managed, ignoring Jim entirely, eyes still glued to the still shot (which featured Kurt doing something completely sinful with his hips).

"Maybe he didn't know," Jim offered sensibly. "I mean, once we mentioned being sexy, he froze up and had no clue what to...Blaine, are you okay? You haven't blinked in a really long time, and it's freaking me out."

"Fine, fine," Blaine managed breathlessly, still trying to wrap his brain around what he'd just seen. And then, all of a sudden, Jim's words registered. "Wait, what?"

"Which part?" he asked lazily.

"The beginning."

"...you mean how he doesn't realize when he's being sexy?"

"Yeah, that." Blaine minimized the window quickly and pushed away from Jim's desk. "What if...I don't know, what if he goes dancing at some club one night and some guy thinks he's doing it on purpose?"

Jim blinked, startled by the swiftness of the change. "I'm sure Kurt can handle- -"

"But you don't understand," Blaine rushed on. "He's already had to deal with so many really awful things, and what if someone tries to take advantage of him that way, too?" His eyes were wide, horror-struck. "Oh my God, I have to do something."

"Whoa, whoa, I vote you calm down. Kurt is _fine_." He studied his roommate for a long moment. "Let's just say someone _does _notice him one day, but they don't have a problem with the inexperience thing. And they're willing to uh..._teach _him. At Kurt's pace. Would you still freak?"

"Well, yeah! Because that's totally not safe, and there are a lot of dangerous people who- -"

"Yeah, but that's not my question," Jim interrupted, clearly enjoying himself now. "Ignore the dangerous people. They don't exist. This imaginary person has good intentions. Now go."

"I don't like it," Blaine muttered, glaring violently at the ground.

"Why?" Jim pressed, with almost indecent amusement. "What if Kurt really likes this guy?"

Blaine thought for a moment- -imagined some faceless creep picking Kurt up for a date, holding his hand while they walked down the street, kissing him goodbye at the door...and then imagined himself punching the guy square in the face. It helped. He focused on that, studiously, ignoring what it might mean, and ignored Jim's question. "I gotta go."

"Consider changing first." He shut the lid of his laptop and shuffled back to his bed. "I'm going back to sleep. Don't do anything stupid."

Fifteen minutes later, Blaine was on his way to Lima. Hummel Tires and Lube was on the way to the Hudmel home, which was nice because it meant Blaine didn't have to think about how to get there.

It was also terrible, because all the free space in his brain left far too much room to think about what he'd seen. This alternately left him trying to remember what oxygen was, and freaking out even more at the idea of some scumbag taking advantage of his- -of Kurt. It was a relief to pull into the parking lot. His heart was racing, palms sweating- -he'd never done anything like this before, and he knew he probably had no business trying to tell Burt how to raise his son. But, well...he couldn't bear the thought of just doing _nothing. _So he took a deep breath and strode into the autoshop. "Need some help?" he called hopefully.

Burt, who was bent over someone's car, obviously hard at work, looked up. He raised his eyebrows, face impassive, and said, "Yeah, couldja hand me that carburetor?" Silently grateful for all the hours of failed bonding time with his dad, Blaine picked it up carefully and handed it over. Burt looked appropriately surprised, though whether he was impressed or not, Blaine couldn't tell. "How'd you know which one it was?"

"My dad and I rebuilt a '59 Chevy in our driveway two summers ago," Blaine admitted, folding his arms in an old nervous habit and half-laughing. "One of his many attempts at bonding."

Burt, who had been wandering around working while Blaine spoke, reemerged and asked, voice much kinder, "You here lookin' for parts?"

_...crap. _Blaine took a deep breath. "Actually, I, uh...wanted to talk to you about Kurt."

"Is he okay?" Burt demanded at once.

"Have you ever talked to him about...sex?" he tried, avoiding Burt's eyes.

"Are you gay?" Burt asked bluntly. "...or straight, or what?"

"I'm definitely gay," Blaine said, unable to quell the little spurt of shame over the fact that Burt had had to ask at all.

"Okay, good," he muttered. "I mean, ya know, whatever. But good for Kurt...he needs someone like you...to talk to." There was the slightest of reprimands in his voice; or maybe Blaine was imagining it because he still felt pretty awful about the whole Rachel situation.

"Well, that's kind of my point," he said hopefully, taking the opportunity once he recognized it. "I've tried talking to him, and he basically puts his fingers in his ears and starts singing."

But rather than convincing Burt, his words seemed to be making things worse. "Well, when he's ready, he'll listen." Translation: _do not pressure my kid. _

_ "_I'm worried that it might be too late. You know, Dalton doesn't even have sex ed classes? Most schools don't, and the ones that do almost never discuss what sex is like for gay kids." Burt glanced around cagily, obviously hoping that no one else was hearing what was going on, and Blaine switched tactics, starting to get desperate now.

"Kurt is...the most moral, compassionate person I've ever met," he told Burt honestly, and the man glanced up.

"Yeah, well, he gets that from his mother."

"And I'm blown away by your guys's relationship," he added, no longer bothering to hide his emotion; Burt straightened, eyes softening, and he pressed on. There was nothing to lose, now. "You think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? I think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight."

Burt nodded slowly, and Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat with effort. "And did he talk to you about this kinda stuff?"

"No, I had to go find it for myself. The internet is great, and all the information is out there, but I went searching for it. Kurt won't." He was speaking without overthinking now, just letting the words pour out as he thought of them. "And one day he'll be at a party, and maybe have a few drinks, and...and he'll meet some guy and start fooling around..." _ignore the nausea, Blaine, don't think about that too hard, _"and-and he's not gonna know about using protection or STDs...I don't have the relationship with my dad that you have with Kurt." Burt was staring at him, looking completely shell-shocked, and he bit his lip, the emotion starting to overwhelm him again. "I just think it would be really cool if you took advantage of that," he finished, voice breaking slightly. Burt sighed slightly, not looking at him, and he shook his head, hard.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

"You are," Burt said brusquely.

Heart sinking, Blaine nodded slowly, and then walked away without speaking. He wasn't sure how long he sat in the parking lot, just trying to focus on pulling himself together, but when he finally put the key in the ignition, it was just after 12:30. _Crap_, he thought, shaking himself out of it and putting the car in drive. He'd been driving for about twenty minutes before he realized that he was shaking, though whether that was because of emotion or because he hadn't eaten since five o'clock the evening before was anybody's guess.

He pulled into the parking lot of the first fast food restaurant he found, and ate without even tasting his food. Little did he know that only a few days later, thinking of the awkward kid in his tire shop, Burt Hummel would have the most awkward conversation of both their lives with his kid.

And the both of them would be the better for it.

* * *

Exhausted, and kind of overwhelmed by the whole day, Kurt stuffed the pamphlets into the bowels of his desk and attempted to sleep. But it wasn't successful, and back at Dalton, Blaine was having a similar issue.

He had no idea why Kurt had taken to spending so many of his nights at home, but it sort of sucked. Blaine had gotten used to hanging out with him at night; doing homework, watching movies...sometimes just hanging out and talking. And he missed that, desperately. And then there was the stress, because he couldn't help but wonder if Burt had talked to Kurt yet, or if he'd mentioned Blaine's role in the whole situation. Then everything would _really _suck.

But then, the next thing he knew, someone was knocking at the door. He groaned and wrapped his pillow around his head, but whoever it was was only getting more insistent. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," he muttered blearily, rolling out of bed and stumbling toward the door. It opened to reveal Kurt, in full Cheerio regalia, one hip cocked casually against the doorframe. He regarded Blaine with a half-smirk and quirked one delicate eyebrow.

"What, you're not going to let me in?" he purred.

Blaine nearly tripped himself in his haste to oblige. "H-hi, Kurt, what- -"

"Shhh," he whispered, pressing one finger gently to Blaine's lips and moving forward, effectively backing Blaine toward the bed.

When the backs of his knees hit the bed, it jarred Blaine from his lust-induced stupor enough to make him blurt, "Wait, are you- -"

"Don't," he murmured, a sultry grin playing about his lips as he carefully steered Blaine back onto the pillows and straddled his lap. "Don't talk."

He shut up immediately, his heart pounding so hard that it actually hurt...and Kurt kissed him, slow and gentle and deep. Blaine whined quietly when he pulled away, and Kurt laughed fondly. "I heard you were worried about me," he whispered, trailing his fingers teasingly along the neckline of Blaine's t-shirt. "True?"

"A-a little," he managed, his breath stuttering.

"You don't have to be," he promised, his breath tickling Blaine's ear. He shivered, and a wicked smirk twisted Kurt's lips. "I'm fine," he whispered, flicking his tongue lightly over the shell of Blaine's ear. "See?"

"Can we go back to kissing now?" Blaine asked, mortified when his voice trembled.

Kurt obliged, his tongue sweeping across Blaine's bottom lip. Blaine opened his mouth immediately, twining his arms around Kurt's neck, and Kurt deepened the kiss, his tongue skittering lightly along the roof of Blaine's mouth. Blaine sighed, pressing his body as close to Kurt's as he possibly could...

...and then he woke up.

"_Fuck._"


	17. FINALLY

Jim, displaying his absolutely impeccable knack for popping up when he wasn't wanted, sat up, groggily enthusiastic. "Fuck?"

"Go away," Blaine muttered, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow. "Why do you always do that?"

"You don't curse," he said, sounding interested, and far more awake. "What'd I miss?"

"Go back to bed," he moaned, rolling out of bed and snatching the towel off his closet door. "I'm going to take a shower."

He was relieved to discover that the early hour meant that he had the bathroom to himself, particularly considering that he was almost positive he wouldn't have been able to handle human interaction in his current state.

So, naturally, the moment he had the thought, Kurt walked into the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He let out a quiet yelp when he saw Blaine, instinctively leaping back. "Sorry," he managed, more than a little breathlessly. "I wasn't expecting...sorry."

"It's okay," Blaine answered, trying as best he could to avoid ogling Kurt's bare chest (which was surprisingly well defined, considering how delicate he was...wait, no, this was not a good thought process to be following right now. Because now all he could think about was Kurt pinning him up against the wall and picking up right where that dream left off, and ohhh, God, now he _really _needed that shower.)

"I'm just gonna, um..." Kurt tried awkwardly, apparently realizing that Blaine wasn't capable of speech at the moment, gesturing weakly toward the showers.

Well, shit. There went that plan.

"Right, yeah, of course. I'll...see ya." And, mortified, Blaine all but ran out.

"What happened to showering?" Jim asked, smirking, as Blaine flew back through the door, flushed and frustrated. "By the way, did you know you talk in your sleep sometimes?"

"No I don't," Blaine answered defensively. "You'd have made fun of be way before now if that were true."

Jim lifted an eyebrow. "Blaine, you were muttering about cheerleaders. I could not make that shit up."

Blaine moaned. "Please leave me alone. I'm going to give up on this day and go back to bed now."

Recognizing his roommate's genuine distress, Jim shut up and burrowed back under his blankets. Blaine crawled under his own covers and squeezed his eyes shut. This was not good. It was one thing to objectively state that his best friend was attractive; anyone could see that. It was an entirely different issue once he started having dreams about said best friend that carried into real life. And freaking out at the thought of him getting physically involved with anyone else.

But he couldn't be attracted to Kurt. Could he?

Of course he couldn't.

...right?

But lying there brooding about it helped absolutely nothing, and eventually Blaine gave up and rolled out of bed in search of some food.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Nick asked, squinting at him. "We've been trying to talk to you for like ten minutes.

"What?" Blaine asked blankly, blinking and abruptly returning to the Real People World.

"Are you okay?" Jeff echoed, plunking down across from him and regarding him worriedly. "You look kinda preoccupied."

"Yeah, just...have you ever gotten into a really bad fight with someone, and even after you both apologize, things are still awkward?" It certainly wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind, but it _was _the only one he was willing to admit to.

Nick and Jeff exchanged amused looks, and Nick slipped one arm familiarly around Jeff's waist. "Yeah. We have."

He looked up at them, pathetically sad. "How do I fix it?"

"Talk about it," Jeff suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Unless it's Kurt, and you two are still walking on the damn eggshells, in which case you should just get over yourselves and stop doing stupid shit," Wes put in, popping out of nowhere and effectively scaring the hell out of him.

Blaine made a face. "You're not helping anything, Wesley."

He shrugged. "Okay, fine, sing to him, then. Wouldn't he be into that?"

Blaine bit his lip. "I don't know. That might make him uncomfortable after what happened with Jeremiah."

"So don't make it completely obvious that you're singing _to _him," David piped up.

"But don't mention sex toys this time, either," Jim added.

"Oh my God, where are you all coming from?" Blaine bemoaned, dropping his head onto the table.

Wes shrugged. "Just a suggestion, Blainers."

He wasn't planning on thinking much of it, but then, later that night as he was desperately trying to muddle through his French homework on his own, his iTunes started to play it- -the perfect song.

"Wes, would you be completely opposed to an impromptu run-through of 'Misery' before rehearsal tomorrow? Considering that it's probably going to be our opening number anyway?"

"It's 12:30 in the morning, and you are calling me about a song?" Wes asked grumpily. "You're kidding, right?"

"You don't usually sleep this early," Blaine protested, hating the little whine in his voice. "I was just asking."

Wes groaned. "You are the biggest sad puppy right now. Jesus."

"So can we do it, or not?"

A heavy sigh. "Yes. I'll tell everyone else, and I guess we're keeping it a surprise for Kurt?"

"That's what I was hoping," Blaine admitted, glaring down at the nonsensical words in front of him and shoving the worksheet away.

"Okay. Done. I'm gonna go school David in Call of Duty and send a mass text now, bye."

_Click._

* * *

"So how are things with Blaine?" Nick asked, late the next afternoon as he and Kurt sat together, surrounded by books that they were basically ignoring.

"I don't know," Kurt sighed. "I've been trying really hard, but...it's so exhausting, you know? I mean, it's not like I don't want to spend time with him. It's just...he's been acting completely bizarre lately, and it's getting harder to pretend I'm fine with _him _pretending that we're just friends." He dropped his head onto the desk. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"I get it," Nick said quietly. "Jesus, Kurt, you're talking to the guy who wanted to hate you for the longest time just because you caught Jeff's interest."

"Wait, you did?" His voice was muffled, and he looked up slowly. "I didn't know that."

"What was I gonna do, tell you?" Nick scoffed. "It wasn't like it made any sense not to like you. You hadn't done anything to me."

"I know what you mean." He toyed with a loose strand on the cuff of his blazer. "I'm just, like- -I get his point. I do. I just wish he wouldn't keep _ignoring _the fact that I told him almost a month ago that I'm in love with him, like it's not a valid reason for why I'd be overreacting to all this other stuff."

"I don't remember you telling us...did you spell it out like that?"

"Well, no. But it was obvious enough." His eyes sparkled with emotion when he met Nick's gaze again. "That's what makes the whole _sexy_ mess so hard for me to get over."

Nick nodded slowly, and then he jolted abruptly as something else Kurt had said sank in. "Wait, what do you mean he's been acting bizarre?"

"I don't even know how to explain it." He tapped his pen in a wild, staccato rhythm against the desk. "It's like he can't figure out whether he wants to hang out with me all the time or completely avoid me."

Before Nick could even begin to figure out how to respond to this, his watch beeped quietly, and he cursed under his breath. "I've really gotta get started on this calc crap." _Because we're about to randomly sing to you, and then everything's going to get insane and I'm not even going to be able to think about it. _

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Most of mine's done. Not that I'm condoning cheating or anything, I'm just saying." After all, Nick had been a really great friend lately, and they'd taken to helping each other with homework pretty regularly. He'd just test him later. Make sure he actually knew what he was doing.

But Nick had barely gotten through two problems when the double doors burst open and Blaine flew through them with a jubilant, "Oh yeah!" and tossed papers all over Warbler Hall. He jumped in with the backup immediately, grinning slightly to himself. But Kurt was, for lack of a better term, completely pissed.

_Was it necessary to make such a mess? _he thought, pressing his lips tight together and pushing the random scraps away. "So scared of breakin' it that you won't let it bend," Blaine sang, in his usual wholehearted, enthusiastic way; Kurt forced himself to smile tightly as his friend made eye contact. "And I wrote two hundred letters I won't ever send," he continued, with relief that he didn't show, pulling Kurt to his feet and slinging one arm around his shoulders. "Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper than they seem. You'd rather cover up, I'd rather let them be." Kurt was smiling outright now, despite his best efforts to continue to be annoyed. Maybe he was crazy, but it felt a lot like...like Blaine was trying to tell him something with this.

He went on singing, and Kurt finally gave in and joined the rest of the Warblers in backup, even dancing a little from his seat. "I am in misery," Blaine sang sincerely, plunking down next to him and leaning over onto his shoulder like they'd done a thousand times before, this time as a veiled apology. "There ain't nobody who can comfort me."

Kurt tried to smile even as he leaned slightly away. He didn't have it in him to be all cuddly with Blaine. Not like this, not right now. But Blaine didn't seem to get the memo, staying right there beside Kurt until he'd finished singing, "The silence is slowly killing me," and staring at him. Kurt forced another grin as he sang, but this one felt a lot more like a grimace; and, to his relief, Blaine got up and continued working the room.

Sometime during the bridge (which Kurt wasn't even attempting to sing, instead feigning intense interest in his fingernails, because really, what was the _point _of this?), Jeff caught his eye and jerked his head, like, _come on. At least try to have fun. _So, obediently, he got to his feet and allowed himself to enjoy the music. He found himself traveling away from Blaine to dance with some of the others, but somehow, he still ended up right near him as the song ended.

"Hey regionals," Blaine whooped, giddy from the success of the song and his own private hopes that maybe his message had gotten through to Kurt, "you've just met our opening number."

The entire hall exploded into cheers. Nick and Jeff laughed, wishing Blaine luck without words, before slipping their arms around each other and wandering comfortably off. Blaine bounded over to Kurt, too excitedly curious to hold himself back. "How did you manage to find a Burberry-esque canary cage cover?" he asked, grinning enormously and immediately wondering why in the hell he was even asking about that right now instead of voicing the million other thoughts in his head.

"Canaries don't like cold weather," Kurt replied, pulling the cover off the cage and regarding his bird fondly. "Especially Pavarotti."

_Okay, patience gone. _"So what'd you think of the song?" he wanted to know, smile stretching so wide that it actually kind of hurt his cheeks.

But Kurt didn't look impressed. "Can I be really honest with you? Because it comes from a place of caring?"

Smile slowly starting to die, he half-shrugged.

Kurt knew what he was going to say. He knew, and he was well aware that it was going to hurt Blaine, going to ruin all his excitement. But it was like he was watching himself from somewhere outside of his body, and he couldn't stop the words from slipping from between his lips. "Been there, done that. Look, you're amazing, Blaine. Your solos are breathtaking." The smile was back, this time more grateful than anything else, and Kurt glanced away for a moment before saying the one other thing that had haunted him from day one. "They're also numerous."

Taken completely aback, Blaine furrowed his brow and followed him. "Kurt, the council decides who gets the solos. Do I detect a little jealousy?"

God, what was even the point of trying to pretend anymore? If the things he hinted at were going to get ignored, then dammit, he was going to be upfront about _something_. "Oh, you detect a lot of jealousy. Look, Blaine, sometimes I don't feel like we're the Warblers. I feel like we're Blaine and the Pips." And before he could really think about what he'd just done, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Crestfallen, Blaine trudged back to his room. That had gone basically the opposite of how he'd hoped. "Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I get too many solos?"

His roommate stared at him for a long moment. "This is a trick question, isn't it?"

"No, I'm serious. Does it bother you how many solos I sing?"

"You do get most of them," Jim shrugged. "But you're our lead. It's not like it's a big deal." His eyes narrowed. "Why does this suddenly bother you?"

Squirming, Blaine avoided his gaze. "Kurt...mentioned something about it."

Jim actually laughed out loud. "Jesus Christ, Blaine. You're kidding me, right?"

"...no..."

"I don't even...I'm just gonna walk away," he announced. "You can figure this one out on your own."

* * *

Kurt let out a huge breath of relief. Thankfully, there was still time between class and rehearsal for him to get out of this godawful uniform, because he was starting to feel seriously restricted. "Hi Pavi," he crooned, petting his bird's head with one gentle finger. The bird chirped happily, and he smiled. "You're so cheery today."

He sang quietly to himself as he shrugged carefully out of the uniform, enjoying the quiet accompaniment of Pavarotti's cheeps. Well, if the Warblers were so intent on silencing his voice in rehearsals, he'd just sing whenever he damn well pleased in the safety of his room. "What should I wear today, Pav?" he asked. Unsurprisingly, the bird stayed silent. Rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness, he continued to get dressed.

Blaine stared blankly up at the ceiling. Honestly, he'd never given a spare thought to getting all the solos before...no one had ever mentioned it, and actually, sometimes people came up to him and literally suggested songs to for him to sing. But maybe Kurt had a point.

_"I guess I'm used to having to scream to get noticed."_

And Dalton hadn't really helped that...if anything, being at such a strict school had only made things worse. He closed his eyes, imagining how free and happy Kurt always looked with his McKinley friends; and he was pretty sure he'd never seen Kurt so relaxed anywhere else. His entire face had lit up when Blaine had mentioned the solo audition for sectionals, and- -

_Oh my God, I've got it._

* * *

"Shit," Kurt muttered, quickly inspecting his shirt for any pulls. It wasn't like his nails were long. How had that even happened? Mildly annoyed, he shuffled over to his desk and carefully started to file his nails. Pavarotti was singing again, which was enough to keep Kurt feeling at least _mostly _capable of dealing with another disappointing rehearsal. It was kind of sad, really, how emotionally dependent he'd become on this bird. He whistled lightly, but Pavarotti, who was usually entertained for hours by echoing Kurt's melodies, stopped mid-line. Still half-smiling, Kurt turned to look at him, but he'd fallen off his perch.

His smile faded. "Pavarotti?"

* * *

"Hey, guys," Blaine said awkwardly, hovering in the doorway to Nick and Jeff's room. "Sorry, I, uh...do you...I can come back later."

Jeff, whose shirt had been rebuttoned rather haphazardly before he'd bounded over to answer the door, just laughed and jerked his head to invite Blaine in. "What's up?"

"I actually had an idea, and I think I might need some backup."

Nick and Jeff exchanged almost unnoticeable looks (_aren't you best friends with two-thirds of the council?_), and Nick arched an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"I was...so I think I just managed to upset Kurt more."

"By singing to him?" Jeff asked skeptically.

"He didn't know," Blaine replied dejectedly. "And it just became a thing about how all the rest of you guys are just my backup singers. So I was thinking about it, and...he's kind of right."

Nick whistled lowly. "So what's the plan?"

"What if we rearranged our middle number as a duet?"

"I'm guessing you'd sing it with Kurt?"

"Do you think that'd be okay?" Blaine asked worriedly. "Because I really think that it'd be good for him to have the chance..."

"Question," Nick piped up lazily. "What _wouldn't _you do for him?"

Blaine froze, and Jeff bit his lip hard against a laugh. "Wh-what?"

"It's a real question," Nick replied. "I just think maybe there're some things you two haven't figured out yet."

"You sound really snobby," Jeff muttered, poking him teasingly, and he pouted.

"I'm just _saying_."

"What would you guys sing?"

"I hadn't gotten that far," Blaine answered, a little dazedly.

"Well, we got your back," Jeff promised, beaming.

* * *

Blaine had been part of the Warblers long enough by now to realize that change was not exactly looked upon as a good thing. Which was why he was hoping that suggesting a smaller switch would exhaust them too much to put up a fight when he brought up what he really wanted to talk about.

It did not go well.

He leapt to his feet and tried to diffuse the volatile situation he'd apparently just created. "Warblers, Warblers, I am merely suggesting that instead of wearing blue ties with red piping, we wear jackets with red ties and blue piping for the competition!" _...because there's such a huge difference, obviously._

Wes banged his gavel, glaring at Blaine as though to ask, "What are you actually planning, because there is no damn way this is about ties."

"This is a kangaroo court!" Dom yelped, looking genuinely angry.

But before anything could actually get resolved, the door swung open and in walked Kurt, red-eyed, clad all in black, and completely miserable. Silence fell immediately, because a) Kurt was never late; and b) he looked like hell, which was something he never let the rest of them see.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Blaine asked urgently.

"It's Pavarotti," he managed. "Pavarotti's dead. I suspect a stroke."

Blaine's jaw dropped; they'd had teasing conversations literally dozens of times before about how much Kurt loved that bird, and...God, he looked absolutely _destroyed. _Heart sinking, Blaine heard himself breathe, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

"I know it's really stupid to be upset about a bird," he choked out, blind to the fact that every single Warbler in the room was watching him in understanding sympathy. "But...he inspired me, with his love of optimism, and his love of song...he was my friend." He drew a deep, steadying breath and tried to press on without losing it entirely. "Now, I know today we need to practice doo-whopping behind Blaine while he sings every solo in the medley of Pink songs, but...I'd like to sing a song for Pavarotti today." He held out a cassette tape, hand shaking slightly; Nelson took it and patted him empathetically on the shoulder, normally smiling mouth drawn down in a grim line.

Blaine sank slowly back down onto his chair, not daring to let his eyes wander from Kurt as the familiar strains of 'Blackbird' piped into the room. Kurt folded his hands somberly in front of him and stared into middle distance as he began to sing- -it was the only way he could think of to keep himself from bursting into tears.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Maybe the Warblers _had _hit on something, giving him a bird. He felt like a piece of him had died along with Pavarotti; like a cherished piece of his soul had been mortally wounded. Maybe, just maybe, he'd empathized with Pavarotti a lot more than he'd ever imagined before- -stuck in some gilded, glittery cage, never able to escape.

It killed Blaine, watching the torment play itself across Kurt's face like that and not really knowing what to do about it. So he did the only thing he could think of to make Kurt realize that he didn't have to suffer through this alone: he started to sing backup.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see," Kurt sang, fighting the lump of emotion that resurfaced with ferocity as, slowly, the rest of the Warblers joined in with background vocals. "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird, fly...blackbird, fly into the light of the dark, black night." Feeling slightly stronger now that he had the support of the others, Kurt allowed himself to wander around the room, going wherever he felt he should.

And Blaine watched. And Blaine's attention never once strayed. And, as the song slowly drew to a close, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Nick was absolutely right: he would do anything in the world for the boy in front of him. And it wasn't just because Kurt was his best friend- -his heart _hurt_, when Kurt was upset; he missed him after only a few hours apart; he'd work just to hear Kurt's laugh, because when Kurt was happy, Blaine could be, too.

And he'd been in love with Kurt Hummel for weeks without even realizing it.

* * *

"I think Blaine's version of the song is actually better than the original," Thad announced the next day; Wes had shortened practice considerably the day before, to allow Kurt the proper grieving time, and now practice was running over today to make up for it.

They should have finalized the song list days ago, and David's frustration over the fact that they hadn't shone clear through as he snapped, "But it's not in his natural key, so..."

"How dare you?" someone piped up- -Kurt wasn't really paying much attention, sitting draped over his chair with his head resting against one loose fist and trying not to go completely insane. Blaine was just going to sit there and allow this to go on? For God's sake, there was less than a week until regionals. What were they going to do, just have Blaine sing every song known to mankind until they all picked one that they felt was suitably dreamy?

Blaine bit his lip, watching Kurt surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly, it all became too much. "Enough," he blurted out. "I'm tired of this."

"I agree. I think we should just let you pick the song you wanna sing," Thad piped up, and Blaine almost groaned in frustration.

"No, I'm tired of the Warblers being all about me."

Jeff twitched slightly from his spot behind the couch, and Nick gently let his hand brush his boyfriend's wrist- -_don't freak out just yet. _Kurt, meanwhile, looked up for the first time all afternoon, daring to hope just a little.

"David, please make sure everything I'm about to say goes down in the official minutes." He readjusted slightly in his seat and stared straight ahead, directly at the council. "We are going to lose at regionals."

More insanity, as expected, but Blaine spoke right over it. "I am incredibly grateful for the belief you've all given me as a junior member to lead you all in these wonderful songs this year, but..." He made eye contact with Kurt directly for the first time; the countertenor was now staring avidly, not bothering to hide his sudden interest. "...from what Kurt has told me about New Directions, I- -I just know I can't beat them on my own." He inhaled, sharply, and took the plunge. "Which is why I propose that we rearrange our 11 o' clock number as a duet." Despite himself, he peeked at Kurt one more time, desperate to see some sort of reassurance there; Kurt was still watching intently, eyes shining with sudden enthusiasm. The uproar following this suggestion wasn't quite as loud as it had been before...he suspected most of the people in the room were hoping for a chance at one of the lead parts. "To showcase other talent in this room!"

"Why don't we just play it on kazoos?" David snapped uncharacteristically, and Blaine leapt to his feet.

"Point of order, point of order." _Translation: please shut up and let me speak. _"Now, we all lost one of our own this week. Pavarotti's voice was silenced by death, and I- -I don't wanna silence anyone else's voices in this group." He fell silent for a moment to let this sink in, and everyone looked appropriately abashed. "I think he would roll over in his tiny, tiny little grave," he finished soberly.

"The placement of which has yet to be determined," Kurt piped up.

"Alright, a vote," Wes allowed. "Who's in favor of Warbler Blaine's proposal of a dual lead at regionals?"

Jeff's hand was second in the air only to Blaine's own, and he shot Nick an excited look. This was _exactly _what Kurt needed.

"Hey...put my name on that audition list," Kurt whispered, signaling to Wes and winking exaggeratedly.

"No," Blaine interrupted, bringing Kurt up short. "No auditions."

_What? Does he not want to sing with me? _

But he drew a deep breath and pushed on, heart hammering wildly in his chest. "I want to sing the duet with Kurt." He couldn't keep the tiny smile off his face, and Jeff was all-out beaming by this point, but..._what?_

"That's...ridiculous, I mean...there're so many great voices. I mean, everyone deserves a shot at that honor."

But, okay, Blaine was pretty sure that by this point, he knew Kurt pretty well. Which meant that he had zero patience for Kurt's attempts to go the self-sacrifice route with this when he'd wanted a solo so badly for months. "All in favor of Kurt being my duet partner at regionals."

And every.

Hand.

Went.

Up.

"Decided," Wes announced delightedly, banging his gavel and all but beaming.

"Congratulations, Kurt." Thad added, looking as though he wasn't quite sure he approved, but at least he understood why it was happening.

Kurt's jaw fell open, and he stared at Blaine as everyone started clapping him on the shoulder, wishing him hearty congratulations. Blaine beamed so brilliantly that it actually kind of hurt. "Wait, wait!"

"What, is something wrong?" Wes asked, furrowing his brow, and Kurt shook his head almost frantically.

"N-no, I just...really? Are you sure you really want me to- -"

"Kurt," David interrupted gently, "we wouldn't have voted for you if we didn't. You can handle this."

"Thank you," he managed, in a trembling voice; and as everyone around him started to wander out, already distracted by thoughts of dinner, he turned to Blaine. Blaine, meanwhile, hadn't been able to stop watching him since the motion had passed. He smiled slightly, hopefully, and Kurt crossed the room in two quick strides to throw his arms around Blaine's neck and just _hold him_. "Thank you," he repeated, but for an entirely different reason.

* * *

By the next day, Jim was about ready to strangle his roommate. "Dear Christ, Blaine, _please _tell me you're going to talk to him today."

"Of course I am," Blaine replied, his voice trembling slightly. "Now that I've finally realized...oh, God, what if I'm too late?"

"That would be why you should talk to him. Today."

"I just said- -"

"I know. I'm just clarifying. Also, you spent four hours looking for the perfect duet song last night, and I just cannot handle that again."

"It was not four- -"

"You started at 7:44. You didn't stop until after 11:30. It was damn well close enough."

"How do you even remember that?"

"Because it was kind of terrifying, Blaine."

"...I should go, shouldn't I?"

"Yes."

Blaine checked his watch quickly; there was still about an hour left until rehearsal. If he hurried, there'd be plenty of time. Kurt was sitting hunched over the table in the commons, surrounded by craft supplies and looking deadly serious.

"What's that?" he asked, grinning.

"I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket," he replied, drawing a careful line of glue.

"Well, finish up. I have the perfect song for our number, and we should practice." He realized after he spoke that he sounded a bit...insensitive, or something, but he was too nervous to care.

And in any case, Kurt put down the glue and surveyed him with interest. "Do tell."

"Candles, by Hey Monday," he blurted out, and Kurt's eyebrows inched up, his pulse speeding up slightly.

"I'm impressed. You're usually so Top 40."

_Oh, God, here it goes. _"Well, I just...wanted something a little more emotional." Slowly, carefully, he sat, still too anxious to meet Kurt's eyes.

And Jesus, Kurt was pretty sure he couldn't handle this. Not if it was going to be another Baby, it's Cold Outside situation. "Why did you pick me to sing that song with?"

His expression was completely serious, and for a moment, Blaine panicked. _I can't do this. I've already done too much, I've ruined it, I...I owe him at least an explanation. _His lips parted as he groped for words, and finally, he just let it out. "Kurt, there is...a moment. When you say to yourself, 'Oh! There you are!'" He flailed a little, and finally managed to meet Kurt's eyes. "I've been looking for you forever."

_Oh my God. Oh my _God_. _

Blaine stared down at the table again, trying to will himself to stop panicking, and shakily put his hand on top of Kurt's. "Watching you do Blackbird this week...that was a moment for me. About you."

Kurt's face was still painfully, perfectly inscrutable, but there was no way he could stop now. He was in too deep, and if he didn't finish this, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

"You move me, Kurt," he breathed. "And this duet...would just be an excuse to spend more time with you." Kurt's eyes widened slightly, lips parting in astonishment. But he didn't say anything, and he didn't move away.

(He couldn't, Jesus, how could he possibly? He was still waiting to wake up.)

Uncertainly, Blaine leaned in, just a little, and when Kurt still didn't get up and run away...he kissed him.

Blaine's lips were soft and gentle against his, and Kurt's first, absurd thought before his brain promptly shut down was, _so this is what it tastes like to kiss a boy. _And then Blaine inhaled, shifting slightly to change the angle of the kiss, and Kurt's hand spasmed slightly because he'd just figured out that _this was really happening_. He brought his hand up to cup the back of Blaine's neck, gasping slightly despite himself, because _God_, he'd imagined his first kiss a million times, and it's never been with someone like Blaine, someone so beautiful and genuine and who is obviously such a good kisser (even though it's not like he has anything to compare it to). And that just so happened to have the unexpected effect of deepening the kiss, and Kurt was pretty sure something in his brain actually short-circuited.

Blaine pulled away first, and Kurt would be lying if he tried to pretend he wasn't kind of disappointed. But he was also kind of in shock, so much so that, as his hand fell limply back onto the table, he didn't notice Blaine's eyes flicker down to his lips and linger. (Because, as it turns out, _he'd _been wanting this for a while, too, and...and now he only regretted waiting so long.)

He sank back into his chair slowly, letting out a laugh that was mostly just air. _What...what..._ "We should- -we should practice," he managed, avoiding Kurt's eyes.

And Kurt honest to God didn't even think it before he murmured, in this low, breathy voice he'd never even heard himself use before, "I thought we were."

Blaine stared at him for a split second, and then practically lunged at him, already instinctively wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist to pull him closer. Kurt threaded his fingers through the curls at the base of Blaine's neck that had come free of all the gel, and when Blaine's tongue swept lightly, questioningly across Kurt's lower lip, he parted his lips instinctively. Weird, he thought he'd be a lot more nervous about the whole thing, but then Blaine's tongue was tangling with his, and Blaine was letting out this kind of...moan/sigh/_thing, _and Kurt was lucky he could even remember what his _name _was.

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured, around the little, closed-mouth kisses that he's still pressing against Kurt's more-than-willing lips. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to wake up."

"You're awake now," Kurt breathed, and it didn't really matter that the way they were positioned was sort of awkward, or that Kurt's neck was bent back at a slightly uncomfortable angle, because now they were kissing again. And there was nothing in the _world _like the feeling of Blaine's lips on his, his tongue dancing playfully against the roof of Kurt's mouth. Kurt leaned up instinctively, trying to get as close to Blaine as he possibly could and effectively deepening the kiss even more. Blaine hummed approvingly against his lips, and Kurt moaned slightly despite himself. He could feel himself blushing at the accidental noise, but then he forgot to care because Blaine was holding him even tighter, and _ohGod _this was what he'd been waiting for. _This _was what kissing was supposed to be. Somehow, at some point, Blaine seemed to realize that this wasn't the most ideal position to be in (or maybe he was slightly uncomfortable, too), because then, all of a sudden, they were moving, just enough for Kurt to be bent slightly backward over the table. Blaine adjusted his arms, protecting Kurt from the table's hard edge as he leaned over him.

Kurt was moving entirely on instinct now, somehow managing to unbutton Blaine's blazer whilst being thoroughly kissed, his hands traveling every inch of Blaine's upper body as the jacket fell uselessly to the ground. True, he was still wearing his button-down, but the fact of the matter was, these Dalton shirts were hopelessly thin. (Which sucked when it was cold, but now that he could feel every ridge of muscle on Blaine's body, yeah, Kurt kinda felt like worshipping whoever had come up with _that _idea.)

They were so wrapped up in one another that they didn't hear the footsteps approaching until Jim had already walked in. "Oh, Jesus," he blurted out, shielding his eyes quickly. They jumped apart, mortified, but he was flapping his hand helplessly and still trying not to look. "No, no, by all means, resume. Sorry, I'll just..." And he promptly sprinted off.

Still, Blaine backed off, his face now a fetching shade of tomato. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- -I know you haven't- -that was, uh..."

"Blaine," Kurt interrupted, surprised by his own daring, as though it was someone else speaking. "Stop apologizing."

He opened his mouth, snapped it closed again. "Right. I, but..."

"No. If you'd done something I wasn't comfortable with, I'd have stopped you. Okay?"

The relief was instantaneous. "Okay."

Kurt smiled and, more than a little shakily, climbed off the table. Instinctively, Blaine put an arm around him, steadying him. "You have glitter in your hair," he murmured, gently carding his fingers through Kurt's locks.

"Oh, damn, it'll stay for days," he managed, even though he couldn't have cared less about the glitter at the moment.

Blaine bit his lip. "So, I've got a question."

Kurt nodded, perching on the edge of the table again.

"Give me your hand," he whispered, holding his own out. Kurt slipped his hand easily into Blaine's, his heart still hammering hyperactively. "Kurt Hummel...will you be my boyfriend?" (He shouldn't have been nervous, probably, considering that they'd just spent the better part of fifteen minutes making out, but he couldn't help it.)

"Yes," he breathed. "Of course I will."

Blaine's entire face lit up. "R-really?"

"Blaine, I've been hoping you'd ask me that for months," Kurt admitted, flushing.

(They ended up being seriously late to rehearsal, but no one bothered to say anything.)

* * *

The next morning found Kurt sitting curled up on a chilly bus seat, leaning his head against the window and for once in his life, not bothering to care about his hair.

"You okay?" Blaine asked quietly, raising an eyebrow as he slid into the seat beside him.

"Totally," Kurt replied, forcing a smile. _Calm down. This is your day, remember? The one you've been waiting for for _years. _Do not let anything ruin it for you._ "Just tired. I was too excited to sleep." _And now I'm petrified and we haven't even pulled out of the parking lot yet. Cool._

Blaine smiled back warmly. "I'm right here, if you want to take a nap." Kurt's answering grin was nervous, but now it wasn't about the solo anymore. They'd cuddled before without even thinking about it, but now it was different. Now it meant something. Not that that was a bad thing, but..._oh God, brain, please just shut up. _Blaine seemed to sense his hesitation, though, because he nudged Kurt's shoulder and murmured, "Hey, it's okay. It's just me, remember?"

"I know," he said, scooting closer.

Blaine lifted his arm to let Kurt curl up against his side, draping his arm around his shoulder. "It's a little weird for me, too," he said comfortingly. "But we'll get used to it." He squeezed Kurt's shoulder gently. "And yesterday...yesterday was even more amazing than I imagined it would be." He flushed despite himself, but Kurt nodded vigorously.

"Me, too. And I- -I'm glad it was with you."

"I'm glad, too," he whispered, pressing his lips lightly to the top of Kurt's head. "I was afraid I'd be too late."

Kurt shook his head slowly. "Jeff was really the only time I tried to...to get over you."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he confessed, sighing. "I told him, though. I felt too awful about it and I just...I hated the idea of making him think he'd done something wrong."

"Wow," Blaine murmured. "God, I _really _regret taking so long to figure myself out, now."

"It doesn't matter," he replied, softly. "We have now."

* * *

_I am going to throw up. Throw up and die. _He'd ended up falling asleep on Blaine's shoulder eventually, but it hadn't done much to help with his nerves. He twisted his fingers together nervously, staring in blind terror around him, and it was a complete relief when Blaine bounced up next to him, letting out a little, excited huff. "Has anyone ever literally died onstage?" he questioned half-seriously, turning his head to look at Blaine.

Blaine looked as though he was contemplating the answer for a moment, and he did the slightest of double-takes as he took in his boyfriend's uncharacteristically tense state. "Are you nervous?" he whispered, lips curving up in a tiny smile.

But Kurt was not in the mood to be teased. "Please don't judge me," he blurted out. "This is the first time I've had a solo in front of a competition audience." As he continued to speak, Blaine walked around him slowly, loosening up in his own way for the performance. "I have this nightmare that I'm going to forget the lyrics, or I'm going to...to sing, and nothing is gonna come out," he admitted, eyes wide with horror at the very thought. When he looked at Blaine, though, Blaine was watching fondly, still looking mildly amused; and despite himself, Kurt laughed a little. "Okay, you can judge me."

"I think it's adorable," Blaine announced, because he _could_, dammit, so why would he bother holding back now that he didn't have to? "I think _you're _adorable." He closed what little distance there was left between them to put his hands on Kurt's shoulder and speak quietly into his ear. "And the only people who are gonna be dying tonight are the people in the audience, because you and I are gonna _kill _this thing." To his delight, Kurt smiled, looking more confident just in time to hear the announcer say,

"And now, from Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

_Oh, Christ_, there was the nervousness again. Kurt wished, desperately, that Blaine could stand closer to him on the risers; but there wasn't much time to brood about it, because the curtain was going up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down (_it's Blaine, you're only singing with Blaine, you've done it a thousand times before, _even though it wasn't just Blaine at all), and moved forward. "The power lines went out, and I am all alone. But I don't really care at all, not answering my phone."

"All the games you played, the promises you made, couldn't finish what you started. Only darkness still remains," Blaine answered, walking around to stand next to him and not even trying to squash his smile.

"Lost sight, couldn't see," Kurt sang back, backing up with a playful grin and letting Blaine advance on him slightly.

"When it was you and me...blow the candles out. Looks like a solo tonight, but I think I'll be alright," they sang in unison, never closing the few feet of distance between them, but never breaking eye contact, either. It was easy, this way. Kurt could hardly stop himself from singing directly to Blaine the entire time, had to force himself to look out at the audience every now and again.

The audience absolutely _erupted _when the song was over, and Kurt inhaled sharply in surprise as an exuberant Blaine tugged him into the spotlight for a solo bow. He beamed, bowed as deeply as he could in his state of semi-shock, and quickly scampered back to his riser for 'Raise Your Glass.' The rest of the set went by in a blur, and the next thing Kurt knew, he was surrounded by jubilant Warblers and Blaine was hugging him tightly, laughing. After blowing a quick kiss to the entirety of New Directions (all of whom were still standing, applauding crazily), Kurt allowed himself to be hauled offstage and back into the wings.

"We did it," Blaine whispered, hugging Kurt hard and resting his forehead against Kurt's own. "We did it. Oh my God, you were amazing."

"You're always amazing," Kurt replied, and Blaine pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love that I can just...do this whenever I want to now."

Kurt laughed quietly. "In that case...why'd you stop?"

Jim catcalled softly from a few yards away, but before they could get too carried away, they were summoned back to the stage. Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt's, and they walked onstage together. Mercedes caught Kurt's eye immediately and winked in a, _boy, you better tell me _everything _later_ sort of way. He winked back and waved with his free hand.

"Now, to announce our winner, Lieutenant Governor Stevens' wife, Carla Turlington Stevens!" the announcer exclaimed. Kurt and Blaine exchanged uncertain looks, and Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand gently. Kurt relaxed slightly, enough to grin back at Rachel when she glanced over at him.

"My husband is verbally abusive, and I have been drinking since noon," she announced, and Kurt tightened his grip almost painfully on Blaine to keep his uneasy giggles at bay. Fortunately, she didn't wait long before saying, "I'm bored, let's just see who won, huh?"

Kurt's eyes widened as she slowly unfolded the envelope; Blaine's hand slipped from his slackened grip. He doubted that anyone onstage had even dared to breathe. "The New Directions, you're going to nationals!"

..._oh. _

He heard Brittany scream first, and then, all of a sudden, all of his friends were hugging, high-fiving, squealing...and it was all he could do to keep from crying. He glanced behind him, and Blaine's half-shrugged, as though to say, "What can you do, really?" Even Sue being her typical, completely ridiculous self and punching Carla Turlington in the face wasn't quite enough to break him from his sudden stupor. Blaine's heart sank, and he took a deep breath. "Kurt, do you want to go talk to them?"

"No," Kurt whispered, leaning down to press his forehead into Blaine's shoulder. "Is that bad?"

"Not really," Blaine assured him. "But I think- -"

But Mercedes's loud squeal cut him off. "Baby!" she trilled, bouncing over to them. "Oh, your first competition solo, I'm so proud of you! You sounded like an _angel_."

Kurt allowed himself to be tugged into her arms, and he hugged her tightly. "Thanks, Cedes," he murmured. "Congratulations, all of you."

"It won't be the same without you," she said sadly. "I wish you could come with us."

"I wish that, too."

The remainder of New Directions descended on him then, and Blaine let them have their moment. It was an exhausted David who finally called, "Kurt, sorry, man, we've gotta get going."

"I'm so proud of all of you," Kurt said one more time, with effort. Brittany kissed him on the cheek one last time with flourish, he freed himself from Mercedes's grip, and trailed dejectedly after the others.

"Blaine?" he asked quietly, as he rested his head against his boyfriend's shoulder on the way home.

"Kurt?"

"Can...can you help me bury Pavarotti when we get home? I just...I really want him to...to have a final resting place," he choked out.

"Of course." He stroked Kurt's hair gently and, in a halfhearted attempt to lift both their moods, told Kurt, "I just found more glitter in your hair."

And despite himself, Kurt smiled.

* * *

"Farewell, sweet prince," Kurt whispered an hour or so later, clutching a rose tightly in both hands as Blaine carefully shoveled dirt onto the tiny grave that they had dug with their own hands.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," he murmured sincerely. "I know this is really upsetting for you. It reminds you of your mom's funeral, doesn't it?"

Kurt sniffled, a few tears sliding unchecked down his cheeks. "The casket was bigger. But yes." Blaine straightened up, staring sadly down at the ground, but Kurt wasn't finished. "It's not just that, though. Honestly, I'm upset that we lost at regionals."

"The competition season's over, but we'll still get to perform," Blaine assured him quickly, trying to make himself feel better about it as much as Kurt. "We do nursing home shows all the time. And do you know how many Gaps there are in Ohio? _Tons._"

Kurt didn't even try to smile. "Yeah, I just...really, really wanted to win." It wasn't that, of course. Not really. True, winning would have felt absolutely amazing, But it was the idea of his friends running off to have adventures without him that really hurt. He'd wanted to go to New York for years and now...now they'd all have a million amazing stories, and experiences; and he'd be happy for them, of course he would. But the New Directions had become like his family, and he _missed _them. Desperately. And the distance between them would only continue to grow once they'd been to nationals.

Blaine shrugged, smiling slightly. "You did win." Kurt looked up at him, face screwed up against his tears. "So did I. We got each other out of all this. That beats a lousy trophy, dontcha think?"

A slight smile curved Kurt's lips, and when Blaine reached for him, he didn't even think twice before taking his hand.

_You're right. We've got each other._

**HOKAY. IT'S DONE. And it's actually update-Monday, instead of update-really-early-Tuesday-morning for once! And it's my dad's birthday, too. :)**

**Here's the thing, though. Next Monday's my birthday, and I've got some places to go/things to do this week that may prevent me from updating early. So if Night of Neglect is late, that's why, and I'm sorry. **

**Also, I've finally gotten up the courage to enable anonymous comments on tumblr (jesski10), so if you've got something you want to say/ask or a prompt you want to give, and you don't want to tell me who you are (or maybe you just don't have a tumblr), you can do it that way. Please don't be too brutal, though. :)**


	18. Unwelcome Realizations Also, a Date

**I'm so, so sorry.**

**A month. Jesus. I don't even have a proper excuse. If you don't hate me by now, please read and enjoy! **

The immediate aftermath of regionals meant a lot of things: that Kurt had ample opportunity, now, to mourn the death of his bird (and, subsequently, the death of the Warbers' competition season. It was all slightly suspect); that Rachel had suddenly become a lot harder to bear again; and that...well, that he had a boyfriend now. And not just _a _boyfriend. Blaine. Blaine, who had proven himself to be so much more than just some gay guy- -who had become his best friend, his confidante. It was kind of hard to be miserable when you had that going for you. After all this time hoping, waiting, and desperately angsting, he and Blaine were finally, _finally _together.

Kurt had this potentially problematic tendency to abandon his homework, or whatever else he was doing, to freak out a little whenever he remembered that particular detail. (_What? It's still a new relationship, okay?_) Paul arched an eyebrow as, a few days after regionals, his roommate bounced through the door and across the room, seized his pillow, and flopped onto his bed. "Good day?" he asked wryly, as Kurt bicycle-kicked the air energetically. And, while it was true that Kurt and Blaine hadn't had much alone time since the day of the competition (as all their teachers seemed intent on working them to death, for some reason), when he nodded, he meant it. Of course he'd have loved to spend every waking moment with Blaine. But somehow, it was enough to be able to hold hands in the hallways between classes. To sit close together at mealtimes with their fingers intertwined and their knees pressing together. To trade secret smiles and glances when no one else was watching- -or even when they were. Because here, no one would judge them for it.

"I'm pretty sure I've _never _seen you this happy," Paul announced, surveying Kurt amusedly. "It's kinda nice."

"It is, isn't it?" he asked dreamily, rolling over onto his stomach to meet his roommate's eyes.

He smiled. "It's about Blaine, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm really happy for you. I've been rooting for you guys."

Even though he and Paul had become friends, somehow, he hadn't expected Paul to genuinely _care _so much about his relationship status. Maybe he just still wasn't used to the fact that straight guys could, well..._get it_. He smiled enormously, battling the sudden desire to go hug his roommate. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

* * *

The next morning dawned bright, clear, and unseasonably warm. When Blaine crashed into the seat beside Kurt in the dining hall, looking uncharacteristically ruffled and still muttering random, nonsensical math equations under his breath, Kurt bit back a smile. "You okay?" he murmured, carefully smoothing Blaine's rumpled collar.

"Just tired," he replied, sighing. "My dad called last night."

"What?" Any amusement was immediately gone, and Kurt's brow creased in concern. "You could have come to talk to me."

"I know." He covered his eyes with one hand. "I'm still getting used to...having someone to tell about that stuff, I guess. And then I had that stupid math exam today, so I was trying to study with Jim afterwards, and it was basically just a huge mess."

Kurt glanced instinctively at Jim, who was pointedly not listening to their conversation, and actually appeared to be quite immersed in something he was writing anyway. "Do you want to talk about it, or no?"

He shrugged. "I told him about you."

Kurt sucked in a breath. "How'd he take it?"

"Not particularly well," Blaine admitted. "But I didn't want to keep it from him. I was hoping when he heard how happy you make me, maybe he'd start to understand."

Kurt's heart, torn between delight at the latter half of the sentence and pain at the anguish in Blaine's voice, flipped halfheartedly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head.

He forced a smile. "Don't be."

"I just mean...I can't even imagine how much that hurts." It certainly wasn't the first time Kurt had been grateful for Burt's complete acceptance and unconditional love, but it was times like these that made him love his father so much it actually hurt.

Blaine's eyes were clouded with exhaustion when he looked at Kurt. "Can we do something later? I'll need it, after today."

Kurt nodded emphatically. "I still haven't finished that huge world history timeline, is the only thing." Which he would have blown off to finally have alone time with his boyfriend (!), if it wasn't due the next day.

"Do you wanna maybe just go hang out outside? It's actually nice out for once, and then I can help you with your project."

"That sounds fantastic."

* * *

"I really want to take you on a proper date," Blaine announced when class had (finally, for the love of God) let out, regarding Kurt as seriously as he could while laying on an oversized blanket, leaning back on his elbows.

Kurt's eyebrows inched up. "You're feeling better, I see."

"A little," he agreed. "I have let him ruin so many things for me. I won't let him have this, too."

"I'm really proud of you," Kurt murmured. "But are you positive you're okay?"

"Definitely getting there," he promised, scooting closer.

"In that case, I'd love that. What did you have in mind?"

"Depends. Is there anything specific you wanna do?"

Kurt, honestly, was too excited by the thought of an actual date to care much what happened while he was on it, as long as it was him and Blaine. Together. "Nope."

"Cool, 'coz I'm pretty sure I have the greatest idea ever," he announced, allowing himself a self-satisfied grin. True, it had literally just occurred to him a few seconds ago, but Kurt didn't need to know that.

"Ooh, tell?"

"Psh, no. That would totally ruin it."

"Whaaat?" Kurt wailed. "No, unfair, come on!"

He snickered. "You're not busy tomorrow, are you?"

"...is tomorrow Friday?" Proof of how insane this week had been, he genuinely had no idea what day of the week it even was.

"Yeah."

"Then no," he replied. "I'm yours."

Blaine's lips quirked up. "Never going to get tired of hearing that."

"Good, coz I'm probably never gonna get tired of saying it."

* * *

"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?" Kurt complained the next day, and it was a really good thing that Blaine was focusing on the road, because he could hear the pout in Kurt's voice, and he was pretty sure if he could've actually seen it, small things like remembering how to breathe might have gone out the window.

"I'll give you a hint," he allowed, not even bothering to hide his broad smirk. "You've been there before."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and deadpanned, "Yes, because that narrows it down sooo much."

"Patience is a virtue," he sang, completely unperturbed by Kurt's sass. And he promptly turned up the volume on his iPod and started singing exaggeratedly at the top of his lungs.

A not-so-reluctant smirk tugged at Kurt's lips. "Okay, okay. Touche."

After that, they lapsed into mostly comfortable silence, and Blaine only broke it to announce, "Almost there!" when they turned onto a vaguely familiar-looking street.

Kurt frowned slightly. "I think I- -oh my God."

Mildly worried, Blaine glanced at him as he parked the car. "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course...I just...realized something."

Blaine smiled shyly. "Remember this place?"

"Of course I do," Kurt beamed, turning his shining face to Blaine. "The first time we came here...that was the happiest I'd been in a long time."

"Me too." He looked fondly at Kurt for a moment before climbing out of the car. "Hold on, don't move yet. I wanna do this right."

"What?" he asked, laughing; Blaine ignored the question, hurrying around to open Kurt's door. "Oh!" Flushing happily, he scrambled out of the car. "Thanks."

Blaine grinned at him, and he couldn't help it; he let his hand brush Blaine's in a silent hint as they walked toward the restaurant. When Blaine looked at him, hopefully quizzical, Kurt twined their fingers together. Brightening, Blaine brushed his nose playfully against Kurt's cheek. "You're adorable," Kurt murmured, echoing Blaine again and squeezing his hand gently.

The hostess this time was a kind-looking elderly woman whose eyes flickered briefly to their tightly-clasped hands before she spoke. "Two?" she asked gently, gathering the menus.

"Yes," they chorused, and a nervous giggle bubbled up in Kurt's throat.

A soft smile graced her lips, and she nodded. "Right this way, dears," she murmured, beckoning them to a quiet, cozy corner.

"Thank you, this is lovely," Blaine told her, well aware that she had chosen an out-of-the-way area to lessen the likelihood that anyone would bother them.

"Jake will be right with you."

"Thanks."

"I forgot how nice it was in here," Kurt mused, drinking in the quaint decor of the place.

"Me, too. Last time we were here, everything was so different," Blaine marveled quietly. _And I'm even less interested in the decor than I was back then._

"I remember figuring I'd wake up at any second," Kurt admitted, laughing. "I'd gotten so used to not having guy friends who understood what it was like that you seemed like some hallucination dreamed up by my deprived brain." His eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. "Dear God, that may have been the cheesiest thing I have ever said."

"Because I'm obviously going to judge you when you say extremely cute things," Blaine shot back, quirking an eyebrow.

"Hi, I'm Jake and I'll be taking care of you this evening. Can I get you two anything to start with? Drinks, maybe an appetizer?"

Blaine jumped, tearing his eyes away from his boyfriend (definitely never going to get tired of thinking that) with effort. "Um...water's fine."

"Diet Coke?" Kurt asked, smiling slightly.

"I'll be right back with that," he promised, his eyes lingering a little too long on Blaine before he walked away.

"He thinks you're cute," Kurt announced the moment he was out of earshot. He probably would have been jealous, but Blaine had barely spared the guy a glance, and besides, why waste time when Blaine was here with _him_, not some waiter.

Color flooded Blaine's cheeks. "What? No, he doesn't."

Kurt snickered. "Does too. And I can't blame him. Want to make a bet of it?"

"What are we betting?" Blaine's eyes lit with amused interested, and he leaned forward on the table.

"I'll decide when I win," Kurt teased.

"Yeah, yeah..." He was still grinning broadly, and Kurt opened his mouth to fire back again. Before he could, though, the waiter reappeared and set down his Diet Coke carefully before turning to Blaine.

"Your water," he said grandly, letting his fingers brush Blaine's ever-so-slightly as he put it down. "Do you need a little more time, or are you ready to order?"

Blaine, who had known when he'd decided to do this that he had every intention of being as cheesy as possible about it (and that, therefore, he'd be getting the same thing he'd ordered the first time), glanced across the table. "Kurt?"

"I'm good."

"We're set," Blaine confirmed with a friendly smile.

"Awesome, what can I get you?" he asked, sparing only the most cursory of glances at Kurt.

(Kurt suppressed his snort with extreme difficulty, and worked his face into an unruffled expression just in time to order- -also choosing exactly what he'd gotten last time.)

He tired of teasing Blaine relatively quickly after that (well, really, was he going to spend his first real date talking about some other random guy? _I think not, thanks very much._), and they returned to regular conversation easily, flitting from topic to topic whenever one of them thought of something new. The funny thing was, it really wasn't all that different than all the nondates they'd been on back when Kurt thought his feelings were hopelessly unrequited. Except that now he didn't second-guess every damn thing that came out of either of their mouths, and the whole atmosphere crackled with a whole new, delicious tension that Kurt had never experienced before. It somehow managed to be both anxiety-producing and completely exciting. Blaine voiced extremely similar thoughts two bites into his entree.

"This is kind of weird, huh? I mean...neither one of us has ever done this before, and it's with _you_, and you're my best friend, and it's really...more than I ever expected. You know?" He blushed, looking vaguely sheepish. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"You're fine," Kurt assured him, smiling. "I get it completely."

Blaine's lips quirked up, and he playfully hooked their ankles together. "Not that I'm complaining."

"You better not be," he joked, quirking an eyebrow.

Apparently, mentioning the fact that, _oh hey, it's totally normal to be nervous about suddenly dating your best friend_, was all it took to make things infinitely less weird, and the rest of the date flew by in a haze of laughter, ridiculous jokes, and a particularly delicious shared dessert. "You know, usually I'm not the type to kiss on the first date," Blaine teased, brushing the pad of his thumb lightly over Kurt's cheekbone.

"Oh?" he replied, embarrassingly breathless.

He hummed a quiet affirmative. "But considering all the time I wasted being oblivious- -and also, the fact that I really, really want to kiss you right now- -I think I can make an exception."

"I can appreciate that," he murmured.

It was the most innocent kiss they'd shared so far, but somehow, that made it even more special.

* * *

Kurt didn't really _mean _to start to fall out of contact with his McKinley friends. But it was still sort of hard to deal with the idea of them all going to New York without him, and what with schoolwork and Blaine keeping him busy, it just...happened. Which meant that when Mercedes called him, he realized with a shock that it had been quite a few days since he'd last spoken to her.

"Hi Cedes! What's up, boo?"

"Do you have a second?"

His brow creased, and he mouthed, _"Mercedes_" to Blaine (who nodded understandingly and immediately engaged himself in something else so they could talk privately). _She sounds awful. _"Of course."

"I'm having...okay, do you remember that Sunshine girl?"

"The one Rachel sent to a crack house at the beginning of the year? God, yeah, how could I forget?"

"Well, apparently she heard about the benefit," (which Kurt had been texted, called, and facebook-invited to by every member of New Directions) "...and came by saying that she wanted to help, and bring all her twitter followers and stuff."

"That's...bizarre."

"I know, right? But long story short, we decided to trust her. And now _I'm _ending up right in the middle of all the performances so that she can get the big, showstopping finale, even though...even though it was _mine._"

He sucked in a breath. "Oh, sweetie."

She barreled on as though he hadn't even spoken; he got the impression that she needed to get all this off her chest. "So Lauren came up to me and told me that I needed to learn how to stick up for myself and demand respect, and...and I'm letting her be my manager."

"You're doing _what_?" he demanded, practically launching himself off of Blaine's bed so that he could start pacing agitatedly. "Mercedes, have you lost your _mind_?"

"I'm just so frustrated," she sighed, sounding incredibly weary. "She's right. And maybe if I act a little bit more like a diva, they'll understand that I'm not just some doormat who doesn't need encouragement, you know?"

"Honey, pulling a Rachel is not going to make things any better."

"It seems to work for her."

"And she drives everyone crazy most of the time, Cedes. I _know _it's hard. You know I understand, but I also know you have more self-respect than this. This isn't like you."

She was silent for a long time. "I didn't think you were just going to spout cliches and lecture me, or I wouldn't've called."

His heart sank. "Baby, I'm not trying to. I'm just trying to help."

More weighty silence. "Are you still gonna come see?"

"_Of course _we are," he answered emphatically.

"Okay," she muttered. "I gotta go. I'll see you then."

"Bye. Love you."

"Love you too."

"Is she okay?" Blaine asked worriedly, still sitting on the bed, giving Kurt space.

"Yeah, she's just..." he shook his head. "There's this whole drama about the benefit they're having this weekend. You want to come with me?"

"I know that's not a real question."

"...is that a yes?" Kurt grinned, sitting back down.

Blaine kissed him softly. "It's a _definitely_."

* * *

"And that was the Spanish classroom. And of course you know the choir room."

"Hey, you guys, you better get in the auditorium! The show's about to start!" Brittany exclaimed cheerfully as she hurried by, wheeling an equally excited-looking Artie.

"It's gonna be a blast, y'all. Gotta get there early to get a good seat."

Kurt turned around entirely, to be able to talk to them as long as he could. "We'll be there in a minute," he promised. "I was just showing Blaine around."

Artie nodded once, understandingly. "Thanks for coming and supporting us, guys. It's really cool," he said sincerely, just before they walked the rest of the way through the stage door.

Blaine watched his boyfriend for a long moment- -watched his lips thin slightly and his eyes brighten with hastily suppressed emotion. "Aww, you miss them," he murmured, his heart aching in sudden sympathy. And yet...yet he couldn't help but hope that Kurt was going to turn to him and smile, that bright, heart-stopping, Kurt Hummel smile, and tell him that everything was fine. That he'd rather be at Dalton, now, even though he _did _wish he could have a little more time to spend with his friends.

Because the more time he got to spend with Kurt, the more trouble he had accepting the idea that one day, he might leave.

Kurt turned to face him, a sad half-grin curving his lips, but before he could say anything, a harsh voice rang out behind them. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"We're here for the benefit," Kurt replied coolly, keeping his face carefully blank. "Don't tell me _you're _going." _But really. Please. Don't be going._

"I wouldn't be caught dead!" Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Blaine shift, as though he was about to fire back, but before he could, Karofsky pressed on. "I was pumpin' iron in the gym and one of the guys told me you too were here spreadin' your _fairy _dust all over the place." His face contorted with hatred, and it was that that pushed Blaine over the edge.

"Will you just give it up?" he snapped, some small part of him marveling at the fact that he was saying this, that he was actually taking this risk. But this wasn't just about him, and dammit, he was _not _going to let Karofsky ruin this night. Not when he'd already taken so much from Kurt. "You can live whatever lie you want, but don't pretend the three of us don't know what's really going on here."

"You don't know squat, butt-boy," Karofsky jeered, his words tumbling out too quickly in his panic.

And that was all it took for Blaine to snap. He wasn't thinking about the fact that Karofsky had several inches and even more pounds on him; all he could think was, _not here. Not again. _Karofsky, taken aback, actually stumbled backward when Blaine shoved him, and for a moment, his surprise outweighed his anger. He barely managed to get one good answering push in before Santana Lopez forced her way between them.

"Hey, no, guys..._Stop_!" she exclaimed, somehow managing to get them far enough away from each other that they couldn't continue even if they'd wanted to.

"You're real brave with your fists, but you're a coward when it comes to the truth," Kurt snapped. This was exactly what he had feared, and he _despised _the fact that after all this time, Karofsky could still scare him like this. The fact that he would actually search Kurt out just to do this. And that was why he didn't think twice about his words. Who cared if Santana figured it out? Promises meant nothing if Karofsky was never going to stop.

"The truth about what?" she asked, as Kurt had expected.

"None of your business, JLo," he growled, glaring at her.

Kurt knew immediately that he had made a huge mistake. And sure enough..."First of all, anything you do _became _my business when you decided to toss that slushie all up in my grill."

"I think I can take a couple of queers and a girl."

"Ha! Okay," she murmured, her voice dangerously low as she stalked forward. "So here's what's gonna go down. Two choices: you stay here and I crack one of your nuts- -right or left, that's your choice- -or you walk away and live to be a _douchebag _another day. Oh. And also, I have razorblades hidden in my hair." Karofsky rolled his eyes, but she wasn't finished. "Mmhmm. Tons. Just all up in there." Karofsky batted the air by her face, and, when she didn't react, stalked away, muttering mutinously.

"We could have handled that," Blaine informed her, but he couldn't suppress the small, grateful smile that tugged the corners of his lips even so.

She shrugged, completely unfazed. "It was more fun doing it together." Before either of them could say anything more, her phone buzzed a quick alert, and her eyes widened as she read. "Oh, _crap." _

"What just happened?" Blaine managed, after she'd vanished.

"I don't _believe _him," Kurt burst out, raising a shaking hand to his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Fine. I promise." He reached for Kurt on instinct, but stopped himself at the last second. Given the situation, he was more than a little jumpy and not particularly keen to provide anyone else who might be lurking nearby with anymore ammunition.

Kurt nodded slowly. "Do you want to go in?"

"Yeah, let's."

Kurt's heart rate only returned to normal when they had entered the cool, dark auditorium and sat down toward the back, well away from any of the others. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes." Under the cover of darkness, Blaine tenderly pushed a lock of hair behind Kurt's ear. "More than."

"Thank you for doing this with me," he murmured, leaning slightly into his boyfriend's touch.

"You always sound so surprised."

He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I guess. But I don't mean...I mean what _just _happened, too. You didn't have to..."

"I know." He looked down, trying to gather his thoughts. "But I couldn't just let it happen. Not to you, and not to me. Not again. You know?"

Kurt was silent for a long moment; he knew, of course he knew. And the sincerity in Blaine's voice broke his heart. Sam announced Tina before he could force his vocal chords into cooperating with him, so he contented himself with squeezing Blaine's hand comfortingly before applauding enthusiastically for her. "She looks so badass," he whispered glowingly, beaming as Tina strutted into the spotlight.

The song wasn't one with which Kurt was particularly familiar, but it was upbeat and suited her voice really well...at least, from what he could hear of it before the catcalling started. "Oh, no," he muttered, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. "Oh no, c'mon, T. Work through it."

And for a moment, it looked like she would be able to. The performance continued admirably until the chorus, but as the hecklers (Azimio's voice standing out in particularly sharp focus) showed no sign of letting up, the lyrics started to die in her throat. She cast her eyes around in frightened desperation, searching out some form of encouragement, and Kurt's fingers closed tight around Blaine's. He yearned to cheer her on or something- -_anything_ that would make her feel better- -but he couldn't seem to make himself speak. Blaine was clutching his hand just as tightly, staring at the stage in empathetic horror, and Kurt had the impression that he, too, was trying to silently will Tina to continue. But with one last terrified look at her audience, she fled the stage.

Kurt's teeth came together with an audible click. "I don't believe this," he bit out, his eyes still fixed resolutely on the now-empty stage. "They've reached a completely new level of douchebaggery, and it is just...what the hell _was _that?"

Blaine was slightly pale, and, in complete contrast to Kurt, seemed to be having trouble finding words. He shook his head. This was a whole new type of narrow-minded, and honestly, he hadn't been prepared for it. The Karofsky thing...it had been a little scary, but not entirely unexpected. And true, this wasn't directed at him (or Kurt), but these were Kurt's friends. People Blaine was starting to think of as his own friends, too. And he didn't want to see them hurt, either.

The lights had come up; Kurt stood and peered down at the rest of the audience. Quinn seemed to be handing something out to the others, and he briefly toyed with the idea of running to the choir room to see if Tina was okay. Before he could go anywhere, though, Sam's voice echoed through the now-silent room. "And now, please enjoy the dance stylings of Mr. Mike Chang as he busts a move to Jack Johnson's 'Bubble Toes.'" Kurt drew a deep breath and settled back into his seat. He wanted to make sure Tina was okay, yes, but taffy or no, this audience wasn't exactly friendly. And he hated the idea of abandoning Mike to them.

He relaxed as Mike started to dance; he was clearly comfortable onstage, and all the..._undesirables _in the audience had been distracted enough to leave him to it. To Kurt's abject relief, the rest of the first "act" passed without a hitch.

"Walk with me?" Blaine asked once intermission began, getting up and holding out his hand.

Kurt took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, lifting a curious eyebrow. "What's up?"

"I just want to walk a bit," he replied honestly. "And I think it might do you some good to get a little air."

Kurt agreed, but still, he couldn't help but tense a little; this whole night was deteriorating into a bit of a mess. But Blaine seemed perfectly fine, and dammit, he was _tired _of letting this nonsense force him into hiding. So he wound his fingers through his boyfriend's as they set off down the hall.

Blaine, actually, hadn't intended to continue holding Kurt's hand. The idea of running into any unpleasantness hadn't entirely left his mind, and the last thing he wanted was to cause more trouble for him. But then again, he didn't exactly want to let go, either. So they ended up wandering out, through the winding, unfamiliar hallways of McKinley High (well, unfamiliar to him, anyway), Kurt half-glancing over his shoulder at every turn, until it became just a little too much. "Kurt, you can always say no," he murmured, carefully disentangling their hands. Kurt looked at him, eyes wide.

"I know. But I didn't want to." And he tipped his head toward the empty Spanish classroom.

Puzzled, Blaine followed him inside. "Kurt, why are we- -"

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving them in darkness, and he felt rather than saw Kurt's answering shrug.

"I just thought," he began, his miraculously steady tone betraying nothing of his suddenly racing heart, "that since there are Neanderthals wandering free, it might be better for us to stay out of their way."

"R-right," Blaine stuttered, throat suddenly extremely dry.

Kurt, leaning back against the wall by the door, made no effort to flick on the lights; his heart was now beating so fast that it actually hurt, in equal parts excitement and nervousness. This was...insane, absolutely _insane. _He'd heard Puck brag about his classroom exploits countless times...heard _most _of his friends, actually. (More than he'd ever wanted to know about Rachel and his stepbrother, thankyouverymuch.) And now..._well._

The kiss started out tentative; Kurt still wasn't all that used to kissing, much less the fact that he could do it whenever he pleased. But the moment Blaine understood what was happening, he wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck enthusiastically, leaning up into him and letting him take control. Hesitantly, Kurt flicked his tongue against Blaine's lower lip, and he parted his lips immediately. Kurt's own lips curved up slightly in his relief, and, feeling much more confident now that he was sure his boyfriend was into this whole thing, he twined his arms around Blaine's waist, pulling him closer. He had never taken the lead like this before, so he was partially going on instinct, partially trying to imitate some of the things Blaine had done. (It was effective, apparently, as Blaine let out a shuddering gasp and pressed still closer.)

There was no battle for dominance; rather, their tongues tangled almost lazily as they reacquainted themselves with the things that made the other shiver and sigh. Blaine nipped Kurt's lower lip experimentally, and was rewarded when Kurt actually whimpered; they only broke apart when Kurt's phone buzzed angrily in his pocket, reminding them both that they had a show to watch.

Instinctively, they both glanced out the tiny window to check for passers-by; but the coast was clear. "I think we're late," Kurt laughed. (They weren't, but it was a close call- -they slid breathlessly into their seats just as the lights went down, and spent the rest of the night quite innocently.)

* * *

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked the next day, hoping against hope that Kurt would just nod and smile- -that he didn't know what was coming. But Kurt had been strangely quiet all day, and he suspected that watching his friends performing without him had been harder than he'd let on. And now that he'd had time to think about it more, it was really starting to sink in.

Kurt nodded, but his expression betrayed him. "I'm just...thinking about last night. I'm really proud of them."

"You don't have to lie," Blaine whispered. "I understand how much you miss them. I've been there, remember?"

"I'm just not used to it yet," Kurt persisted doggedly. "Being in the audience for their performances, I mean. But I'm fine, Blaine. Honestly." He smiled. "I've got you, remember?"

Blaine's heart flipped, and he kissed Kurt's cheek lightly. "I'm guessing that means you don't want to talk about it anymore?"

"You guessed right," Kurt murmured, resting his forehead against Blaine's. "See, I've got this amazing boyfriend, and I'm kind of in the mood to kiss him right about now."

Really, Blaine was no match for an argument like that.

The next time it came up was only a few days later, when Tina called Kurt after rehearsal to catch him up on McKinley news. As the council had relaxed somewhat about the rehearsal schedule, Kurt and Blaine had decided that it was simply unacceptable to have such awful memories of the North Hills mall, and had gone shopping right when class let out. They'd just gotten back when Kurt got the call; and this time, Blaine actually watched his face change, and knew exactly what it meant.

Kurt set his shopping bags down and plopped onto his bed as he picked up the phone. "Hey, Tina."

"Hi baby!" she crowed. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he replied, winking at Blaine playfully. "Blaine and I just got back from the mall. I have so much to show you guys."

"Ooh, new things? We should do something soon, so you can show us. And I miss our ladychats, anyway," she added with a quiet laugh.

"You sound really happy, T. Something happen?"

"No, I'm just so excited," she bubbled, as though she'd been bursting to get to this all along and couldn't hold back. "I mean, it's _nationals! _New York! And, just...I cannot wait to get out of Ohio!"

Kurt's heart sank, but he pasted a bright smile onto his face, in the hopes that he would make him sound okay when he managed to speak. "You guys are going to have an amazing time. You have to take pictures."

She went silent for a moment, apparently having suddenly remembered herself. "What are you guys going to be doing?" she asked, subdued now.

"I don't know," he sighed, falling back onto his bed. "I, for one, intend to spend tonight having a chick flick marathon in an attempt to decompress." It wasn't what she'd been asking, as he was well aware, but he didn't particularly feel like thinking about what his performance options had been reduced to.

She laughed, sounding almost relieved. "I'll let you get on that, then. But d'you and Blaine maybe want to come get coffee with us tomorrow? We really miss you."

"Sure," Kurt agreed unthinkingly. "Will you be at the Lima Bean?"

"Yeah. About fiveish, after glee?"

"See you then! Bye, T."

"Bye Kurt. Love you." She blew him a kiss, and then the line went dead. He stared at his phone for a moment, bemused, then turned to Blaine.

"I'm going to the Lima Bean tomorrow, apparently. Wanna come?"

Blaine studied him, expression serious. "Of course."

He shifted uncertainly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"C'mere," he answered instead, patting the bed next to him. "Sit with me."

Kurt complied. "You're making me nervous."

"Don't be. I just...I just want to talk," he whispered. "Every time I mention McKinley, you change the subject- -" (Kurt's mouth snapped closed before he could speak) "- -and I think we really need to talk about it."

"What's there to talk about?" Kurt asked evasively, not meeting his boyfriend's eyes.

"You want to be with them," Blaine said simply. "And I think if you could be back and be safe, you'd be there in a second." He was working to keep the pain out of his voice, but he could tell from the conflicting emotions playing across Kurt's face that he wasn't successful. At all.

"Blaine this isn't- -"

"Kurt, please. Please humor me. I know you don't want to talk about it, but I...I think I need to."

He nodded slowly. "I'd miss you. A lot."

"I know." He threaded his fingers through Kurt's, trying to smile. "B-but I want you to be happy, you know? And I guess what I'm trying to ask is...what it would take to make you go back. So that I can...prepare myself." He was staring down at their clasped hands, trying to maintain his composure; Kurt squeezed gently.

"I've thought about this...a lot," he began carefully. "And I think...if I knew that Karofsky was...no longer a threat, then I'd be willing to consider going back."

"Even if he was still going there?" Alarmed, Blaine looked up. Kurt's face was pale, but determined.

"Yes. But I'd have to be a hundred percent sure I'd be safe."

"How could you be?" Blaine pressed urgently. "What's stopping him from lying, from trying to lure you back?"

"That's why I don't think it'll be possible." Kurt drew a shaky breath. "Blaine...it's going to be okay."

"I'm sorry. I know you don't want to talk about it."

"I understand why you do." He swallowed hard. "It shouldn't still be so hard for me to be away from them. And- -and I don't want you to think I'm not happy, because...God, Blaine, I am. I really am."

Blaine just looked at him. There were words, dozens of them, pushing at his lips, but he couldn't make himself speak.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah." He forced his lips into a fair facsimile of a grin. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you."

Kurt lifted one shoulder halfheartedly. "It's been months. I _want _to be able to honestly say that I'd just stay here if things changed. But I don't want to lie to you."

"Look, it's not like you left just because you felt like a change of pace. You left because you had to...of course that changes things."

They'd had this conversation (or variations of it, though not to this extent) dozens of times, but now, the idea of leaving Dalton was just as painful as the thought of staying. Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Can we just watch a movie?"

So they popped one in- -some random, generic comedy that neither of them intended to pay much attention to- -and got settled. They'd always been cuddly; it was just the nature of their relationship. And sure enough, the "oh, God, now that we're dating, this _means _something"-induced nerves had faded quickly. Because _yeah_, it meant things. Awesome things.

Kurt splayed his legs out in front of him, settling a pillow against the wall to cushion his back; Blaine immediately curled up and put his head in Kurt's lap, sighing contentedly. Kurt stroked his hair gently; and neither of them allowed any unpleasant thoughts to enter their minds for the rest of the evening.

**As always, for those who want it, my tumblr username is jesski10.**

**And for those of you who missed Jim this chapter, and/or who just want to see more of him, his is jimethan. He's quite excited about the whole thing, but he's not quite sure what to post. So you should ask him or tell him things-help him out a bit. :)**


	19. It's an AngstFestand Stuff

**Advance warning: the dialogue at the very beginning of the Kurt/Karofsky scene is paraphrased and/or nonexistent (where Kurt is talking to his father, etc). A million thanks to saythatagaintomyface on tumblr for the dialogue _between_ the boys. Enjoy!**

The unpleasant thoughts, though, resurfaced more and more often throughout the following day. They weren't bothering with Warblers practice after class, seeing as the demands of their upcoming performance were nothing in comparison to those of regionals; their choir period had turned out to be sufficient preparation for the day. Usually, this meant extreme celebration of some kind, but as Kurt and Blaine had to get to the Lima Bean, there wasn't much time for that. No, rather, it meant, well...nothing good.

"Okay, I just have to say one thing," Blaine blurted out as they headed for Kurt's car.

"...okay," he replied warily, slowing down on pure instinct.

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, trying to prepare himself for the things he knew he had to say. And then, all at once, he forced the words out: "If you want to go back, I want you to do it."

Kurt stopped so suddenly that he nearly tripped over his own feet. "Wh-what?"

"If you'll be happier there...and you'll be _safe_...I want you to go back."

"I don't understand what- -"

Blaine took his hand to stop him from walking around to the other side of the car. "I just want you to be happy."

Kurt's eyes filled, and he wrenched his hand free, heading for the driver's seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hurt expression flicker in Blaine's eyes, but it was all getting to be a little too much. Like it hadn't hard enough to figure all this out before..._now _what was he supposed to do? And Blaine being all nobly self-sacrificing might actually kill him (if, at least, it was possible to die of a broken heart). "I am happy," he said pointedly, when they'd both gotten into the car. "I _am_."

It was kind of ironic, actually, considering that every damn time they talked about this, it got less and less true. Not that Kurt was regretting dating Blaine, because _Jesus, _no. Quite the opposite. Thing was, it was getting harder to convince himself that staying at Dalton was what was best; and yet, he knew he'd miss Blaine and friends desperately. It was a double-edged sword of suckiness.

He was lost in thought the whole way to the Lima Bean without even realizing it, and it came as a surprise when they pulled into the parking lot. "Looks like they're already here," Blaine offered quietly, motioning to Mike and Tina, who were hurrying toward the coffee shop, wearing the telltale guilty expressions of people who knew they were late (for _whatever_ reason).

"Right." Sounding weary even to himself, Kurt tossed his keys in his bag and popped the door. "Let's do this."

Blaine reached for him instinctively, and Kurt's lips quirked up in the corners as he threaded his fingers through Blaine's. "I _am _happy," he repeated gently, pausing to bring his free hand up to caress Blaine's face. "Okay?"

"Okay," he murmured, even though he only partly believed him. Kurt kissed him quickly(_okay, yeah, never going to get tired of being able to do that)_, and they walked in.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that rather than attempt to all squash together at one table, they'd opted to spread out. Brittany was alone at a table with Artie; Finn, the rest of the boys, and Lauren seemed to be having a straw-wrapper fight nearby; and Mercedes and Tina were waving wildly at him, gesturing to the two empty seats across from them. Santana, on the other hand, didn't even seem to realize what was going on. He hugged Tina and Mercedes and snapped his fingers in front of Santana's face; she jolted to attention and kissed him on the cheek. They all hugged Blaine as well, which made both boys smile; no matter how nice they'd always been to him, it kind of took Blaine by surprise.

Kurt immediately engaged them all in conversation, though Blaine noticed that he kept everything extremely casual; the girls pressed them playfully for details of their dates, and it was only then that Kurt seemed truly alive and engaged, laughing and blushing and calling them all perverts. Eventually, though, they noticed.

"You haven't asked us anything about our New York trip," Mercedes pointed out, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Tina, who seemed to be remembering their conversation from the day before, leaned past her. "Is it because it's too painful?" she asked worriedly.

The smile that Kurt managed to force onto his lips was thin and pained, and in truth, it probably would have been better if he hadn't bothered with it. "Yes, as a matter of fact," he replied dryly, and all three girls shifted awkwardly in their seats. "But while the New Directions are preparing to perform at Nationals, the _Warblers _are preparing to perform in a nursing home, in a strip mall next to a national bank." He tilted his head toward Blaine, who nodded and managed an equally feeble attempt at a smile. "But I'm so proud of you guys!"

"We miss you so much," Tina blurted out, and Mercedes nodded.

"Isn't there any way you could come back to McKinley?"

"I told him I would be all for it if it wasn't for Karofsky," Blaine piped up, in the first real contribution he'd made to the conversation since they'd gotten there nearly half an hour ago. He felt Kurt tense up slightly next to him, and he twined their fingers together under the table, squeezing gently in a silent apology. But really, what was he supposed to have done? It couldn't have been clearer how much they all missed each other, and no matter how much it sucked...he wasn't going to let Kurt feel like he couldn't transfer back because of Blaine. Absolutely not.

Santana, who seemed to have been staring blankly in Brittany and Artie's general direction, came to life suddenly. "Wait, what did you just say?"

Blaine glanced at him; he was still staring at the table, apparently focusing with all his might on pretending this conversation wasn't actually happening. "Kurt needs to be safe."

He pulled his hand free from Blaine's, pointedly looking away as he asked, "Okay, can we _please_ change the subject?"

"Hey, I'm _sorry_, but I'm just telling her the truth," Blaine protested, wounded. "She asked."

"Sorry, baby," Mercedes added, looking apologetic. But he avoided her gaze, suddenly feeling like he might burst into tears at any moment; instead, he tried to focus on anything, everything. Stupid things. Like drinking coffee, and counting the random scratches in the tabletop.

He didn't notice Blaine sneaking worried, mildly hurt looks at him.

"I've gotta gay," Santana blurted out suddenly, jumping to her feet. "Uh..._go_, I've gotta go." And she promptly ran off.

"We should probably go too," Kurt added, half-apologetically, glancing at Blaine. "I just kind of have a lot to do."

"...oh. Okay." Disappointed, she tried to force herself to smile. "C'mere, white boy, lemme hug you goodbye." They embraced tightly, she hugged Blaine again, and Kurt and Blaine left, without further ado.

"That was sudden," Blaine remarked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. Did you want to stay?"

"They're your friends," he pointed out. "It's your decision." He knew his voice was just a little cooler than normal, but he couldn't help it. True, they'd probably talked the to-transfer-or-not-to-transfer thing to death by now, but this time it wasn't even as though he'd been the one to bring it up. Before he could work himself into a truly bad mood over the whole thing, though, Kurt let his hand bump Blaine's lightly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's not your fault. I'm just...really sensitive about the whole thing."

"I know. It's my fault, too. I'll stop bringing it up," Blaine sighed.

And he did. But unfortunately, that didn't make it go away, and it was Kurt who had to bring it up the next time, several days later.

"I just got a phone call," he said, face so pale that Blaine actually leapt to his feet, worried that he was actually going to faint.

"Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"I've...I've got the option of going back to McKinley to have a meeting with Karofsky and his dad."

"_What_?" Blaine's heart took off in an anxious sprint, and his hand closed compulsively on Kurt's. "What for? What do they want?"

"Figgins said...said that he wants to apologize."

"_Who does_?" Blaine demanded urgently, and if he was squeezing Kurt's hand as hard as he feared, Kurt didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't mind it.

"Dave. Karofsky." His voice was oddly monotone; this whole thing still felt like some bizarre hallucination.

"Are you going?"

"Yes. T-tomorrow."

"And...and what are you...how are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted, his voice low. He knew exactly what Blaine was asking, but the thought of figuring out the answer terrified him. "I- -I want to go back to them, but I don't want to leave you."

"What time is your meeting?" Blaine asked, amazed by how calm his voice was.

"Early." He perched on the edge of the bed, because he was starting to worry that his legs weren't going to support his weight anymore, and pulled Blaine with him. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he answered hesitantly. "But just in case...in case you decide to go...hang out with me tonight?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

* * *

The beginning of the conversation went by in a huge blur- -if asked later, all Kurt would really remember was that there were more accusations from his father, that Mr. Karofsky seemed to genuinely believe that his son had changed, and that the son in question actually met Kurt's eyes when he apologized. And this time, he didn't have any excuses; no "It's just an expression," no "I didn't really mean it." Just an apology.

"What do you think about all this, Kurt?" Burt demanded finally.

Kurt regarded Karofsky carefully; his former tormentor looked strangely small, sitting there as though waiting for a court sentence. "I believe he realizes that what he did was wrong," he said finally, carefully.

"You're only saying that because you want back in this school so bad," his father objected disbelievingly.

Kurt's eyes fluttered closed briefly. He was never going to be able to figure anything out with his dad so obviously, adamantly against this whole situation. "Could David and I speak...alone? You can wait right outside the door," he added, noting that his father clearly had no desire to leave them together. Burt stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly and got up, followed by Mr. Karofsky. "What's your angle here?" he asked once the room was empty, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm just trying to make things right," Karofsky mumbled, avoiding his gaze again.

It was clearly a lie, and Kurt knew that if he wanted the truth, he'd need to take a risk. However Karofsky reacted to this was, without question, going to affect what he did after this meeting. "David, I know," he said quietly, leaning forward. "I remember. I haven't told anyone."

He looked up again, his expression tormented. "Why? It would've made your life a lot easier."

"I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing, either. You still owe me...the _truth_, what's going on here?"

Karofsky bit his lip, then seemed to decide that Kurt had a point. He took a deep breath. "It was Santana's idea. She wants to be prom queen, so she figures if we get you back, we'll get everyone to vote for us."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. _'I've gotta gay. Go, I've gotta go.' So that's what her problem was. _He wasn't sure why he was even surprised; it wasn't as though he hadn't known Santana was that manipulative. Still, _what the hell? _What did she care so much about being prom queen for? (Nice to know the crown was more important to her than his friendship, at any rate.) "I'm both repulsed and impressed by her Lady Macbethian ways...a Latina Eve Herrington," he mused. Karofsky's brow furrowed, and he smiled slightly. "Okay, if you're gonna be gay, you simply must know who that is."

His little joke didn't have quite the effect he was hoping for, as Karofsky tensed up again and lowered his voice, the words spilling out in a rough growl. "Look, I don't know for sure I _am _gay, okay? Stop being such a broken record."

Clearly, this was getting nowhere. Time to pull out the big guns or he'd be here all damn day. "Okay, I have several options here: I could tell everyone the truth about you- -"

"Dude, I said I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, panic changing his entire demeanor. "You said you wouldn't do that!"

"Hold on," Kurt cautioned him. Well, _that _had sure as hell gotten his attention. Still, he felt kind of bad about the veiled threat, despite himself. He remembered what it was like to be, well, not exactly in Karofsky's position, but something like it. He remembered being scared, not knowing what to do. Which was why he kept speaking. "_Or, _I can return here and marvel with pride at your new anti-bullying movement- -which I fully believe in- -and further demand that you and I start a chapter of PFLAG here at McKinley. Parents, family, and friends of lesbians and gays. You need to be educated, may not have to come out, but you _need _to be educated."

David groaned, but Kurt recognized it immediately for what it was: victory. "Man...just kill me now."

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. Burt and Mr. Karofsky came back into the room with Principal Figgins, and the next thing Kurt knew, he and his father were filling out paperwork to make his return to McKinley official. "So we'll see you at noon tomorrow, then, Mr. Hummel," Figgins announced, half-smiling. "You can have your advisor at your other school fax my secretary your transcripts."

This brought him up short. "Wh- -tomorrow?"

"Is that a problem?" Figgins asked, raising an eyebrow. A leaden feeling of dread settled in Kurt's stomach even as he shook his head.

_Blaine._

* * *

"How did it go?" he asked a few hours later. His voice sounded strange even to himself- -too cheerful to be real.

"It was...good." Kurt reached for him, and Blaine let him twine their fingers together even as his blood ran cold. He knew what was coming. "I...I wanted to talk to you about that."

He wished that there were people in the commons, so that he could object to this. So that he could say that this was no place to be having such a personal conversation; and so that once he and Kurt were somewhere else, he could come up with some way of changing his mind, or at least distracting him so that he wouldn't have to hear this. "Yeah?"

"He seemed to really mean it, and...and Finn promised that he'd...look out for me. Blaine, I- -I'm going back." He regretted his clumsy wording immediately, but it had come out like word vomit, a stupid, messy, painful cluster that he couldn't take back now, no matter how much he wished he could.

The color drained from Blaine's face. "When?"

_Oh God, oh God, oh God. _"Tomorrow."

"I have to go," Blaine blurted out, wrenching his hand free. And before Kurt could even figure out what had happened, he bolted, leaving his boyfriend to drop his head into his hands, body shaking with dry sobs.

When Jim walked into his room ten minutes later, he saw Blaine looking worse than he had in a long time. _Oh, fuck. _"Blaine?" he ventured cautiously.

His roommate just sat numbly on the edge of his bed, stared blankly at the floor for a few seconds, and ignored him entirely.

"...hello?"

"Kurt's going back," Blaine said, forcing the words out through numb lips. "He's transferring. Tomorrow."

"Whoa, whoa, _what?_" Jim did a double-take. "Isn't that a little...soon?" For Kurt had mentioned the upcoming meeting to the rest of the Warblers the same day he'd told Blaine, 'just in case.' But the absolute _last _thing Jim had expected was for all of this to happen so fast.

Blaine just stared at him.

He winced. "Right. Well, shit."

"Yeah." He sighed heavily.

Jim let him sit there, brooding, for a few minutes, before it became just a little too much for him to handle. "Um, so I have a question."

"Hmm?"

"If Kurt's transferring tomorrow, why the _fuck _are you in here instead of with him?"

"He's packing," Blaine mumbled, kicking at the ground.

"So fucking what? Go help him, then. It's not like you're gonna be seeing him every day anymore."

"Maybe I'm worried that if I go, I'll beg him to stay," Blaine snapped. "And maybe I don't want to make him feel bad about his decision."

"And _maybe _he thinks you're mad at him, since you came straight here when you found out he was leaving and aren't answering his texts."

Blaine's head snapped up. "What?" How do you- -"

"I have a phone, too, genius." He waved it, pointedly. "He asked me."

"Asked you what?"

"If you're mad at him," Jim replied impatiently.

"Shit. I'll be back."

It was a slightly shell-shocked Paul who opened the door. He managed half a smile. "I guess he told you, huh?"

Blaine nodded dumbly, rooted to the spot. Paul gently pulled him inside, seeming to understand why he couldn't do it himself, and Kurt froze halfway through folding one of his sweaters. "Blaine?"

"Hi," he whispered, and Paul brushed past him and out the door as quietly as possible.

The sweater fell onto Kurt's bed, forgotten, and he crossed the room in a few quick steps, hugging Blaine tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of Blaine's blazer.

Blaine just clung to him, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over. "I want you to be happy," he said, for what felt like the millionth time. Kurt was shaking slightly, and his eyes were red-rimmed when he pulled back to look at Blaine, but for the first time, he just nodded.

"There are still weekends," he said, his voice wavering. "And I can still meet you at the Lima Bean after Glee and stuff."

"I know."

Kurt's lower lip trembled, but he tried to smile. "Will you help me pack?"

"Of course I will."

It didn't go any faster with two of them doing it. If anything, it slowed the whole process down, because they kept coming across silly little momentos of their relationship; the program from Blaine's King's Island gig; the Gaga concert stubs; notes passed during class; and the pictures. It was those that took the longest, because both of them preferred telling little anecdotes about each one rather than packing them away. "I think I knew then," Blaine confessed, holding one of the snapshots of him and Kurt singing "Silly Love Songs" at Breadstix. "But I didn't want to put a name to it, because I was scared."

"God, look at me," Kurt laughed, his chin resting comfortably against Blaine's shoulder. "I was trying so hard to get over you...people across the damn country could've seen how much _that _worked."

When they got to the pictures from Rachel's (though how anyone had been sober enough to take them was a mystery), Blaine turned so that his forehead was pressed against Kurt's. "Did you ever give up on me?"

"No. Not really," he whispered, resting his hand gently on the back of Blaine's neck and toying with the downy curls that had escaped the gel's hold. "I got frustrated, and I was probably getting really close to it, but I don't think I would've stopped feeling this way about you even if I had given up hope."

Overcome, Blaine kissed him; and just like that, packing was abandoned. The photos fell from Blaine's hand as he brought it up to caress Kurt's face gently. Kurt sighed, leaning into his touch and pressing as close to Blaine as he could. There was a certain desperation to the way they kissed now, as though they were determined to memorize each other. Blazers and ties were abandoned, top buttons tentatively undone, and everything was lips, tongues, cautious hands that, even given the situation, didn't dare venture too low. They only broke apart, breathless, when there was a loud bang from somewhere outside. Color climbing high in his cheeks, Kurt rolled off of Blaine and attempted to busy himself with gathering the scattered...everything. (The slight tilt to his lips, though, indicated that he wasn't quite as embarrassed as he seemed.)

The packing got done rather more quickly after that, if only because they'd both realized that the sooner they finished with the unpleasantries, the more time they would have to themselves.

* * *

"Shit, I don't have _anything_," Paul fretted, looking up from Jim's guitar. "I'm gonna have to go back in there."

He wasn't sure exactly why he'd gone to Jim; it wasn't as though they were really good friends. In fact, the only things they had in common was that their roommates were dating, and that they were endlessly grateful for that fact. He guessed he'd found himself there because he'd known that Jim would be the only one in his room, and that he'd most likely understand why Paul was rather keen to avoid his own room at the moment. And he'd turned out to be right.

Jim looked up from his laptop and arched an eyebrow. "You could borrow a pair of sweatpants. I really don't care."

"Actually, that might be good," Paul agreed, relieved. "Are you sure Blaine'd be okay with me staying in his bed?"

"He just washed the sheets, so it's clean, and if it means he gets to spend the night with Kurt, I'm pretty sure you can do whatever the fuck you want and he's not going to care."

And sure enough, when Kurt got the text from Paul, the one that wished him all the luck in the world back at McKinley, told him that if anyone "back there" gave him any trouble, he was to tell Paul immediately, and added a winky face and a "have fun!", he couldn't keep the wide grin off his face for a good five minutes.

* * *

Kurt wasn't entirely sure whether he was nervous or excited; whether he was happy or sad. He supposed he could be all of them, all at once. Because otherwise how could he feel like his heart was going to shatter into a million pieces when Blaine clutched him tightly and murmured, "Please, please, _please _be careful. I'll talk to you soon, I promise," yet still feel light as air at the thought of seeing Mercedes and the others again?

Finn beamed at him as Burt signed one last paper and the elderly secretary croaked, "Welcome back to McKinley High, Mr. Hummel."

"Thanks," Kurt said breathlessly, his eyes darting immediately back to his stepbrother, who was beaming like a little kid on Christmas morning.

"Give me a thirty second head start and then come to the steps," he whispered loudly. "Mercedes is getting everyone together to surprise them!"

"They don't know?"

"Dude, no. I wasn't gonna tell them. I figured you'd want to."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Well done, Finn."

Finn grinned widely. "I try."

Burt hugged him tightly one last time, reminded him to "call me _immediately _if anything happens," and then his father left, and Kurt was left alone in a school that was at once familiar and strange. He allowed himself a moment to take it all in before he remembered Finn's instructions and rushed to the courtyard. All his friends were gathered below him, looking confused as to why they were there, and no one else nearby seemed to have realized that Kurt was, well, _new. _He didn't care, though. He was too busy straining to hear what was going on in the quiet knot of most of his favorite people in the world.

"Fellow glee-clubbers! It's noon," Mercedes announced, her wide smile radiant with excitement, "which means...it's official."

"...what's official?" Sam asked, brow creased in confusion.

"My transfer! Kurt Hummel's back at McKinley!" he shouted, unable to restrain himself another second. He hurried down the steep stone steps toward his friends and straight into Mercedes's arms. Beaming, she tugged his top hat off playfully and relinquished him to the others. The girls surrounded him immediately, and even as a giddy feeling of...well, _glee_ filled him, he blurted, "let me breathe, let me breathe!" He wasn't even entirely sure why he was saying it...he'd missed them for so long that he wasn't exactly keen to rush this moment, but at the same time, there was _so much _going on right now. Joy, relief, excitement...and then there was the sadness at the realization that he was back with his family, but that he'd left his other friends. And Blaine. It was almost too much to feel all at once, particularly when coupled with the slightest undercurrent of trepidation at being back here after everything. "Let's get ready for Nationals," he said, all in one breath.

"Not yet. See, there's a reason we're meeting here today," Mercedes informed him, patting his arm warmly. It hit him all at once, in a flood of sudden nervous excitement; and he couldn't help the uncertain smile that took over his face, nor the automatic way he swept one hand over his hair. "There's some people that wanted to say goodbye to you."

And, as Kurt's jaw fell open in abject astonishment, Blaine and all the Warblers slowly filed into view. "Kurt, Dalton's going to miss you," he said, his voice soft but carrying. "You were a great addition to the made us a better team." To Kurt's horror, a lump clogged his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his cool. A small smile graced his lips despite himself; he knew Blaine well enough to realize that, while he meant what he was saying, he was saying a lot more than that, as well. A lot more that he didn't dare to say here, where Kurt had faced so many problems for his sexuality. "I'm sad to see you go, but we all know this is something you really want. And I'll still have you after school and on the weekends, but...these guys won't, so...we wanted to say goodbye." Blaine's voice caught almost inaudibly at the end of the sentence, and Wes took over to simply say,

"Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt, by this point, was doing everything he could to keep from breaking down and sobbing; and then Blaine started to sing. "I walked across an empty land; I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. I felt the earth beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete." He led the others closer as he hit the bridge, and to his astonishment, someone started to play the piano, a quiet accompaniment to their farewell. "Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on. So tell me when you're gonna let me in- -I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin." There were more people playing now, percussion, and even violins, and if Blaine didn't distract himself somehow, he wasn't going to be able to get through this. He hurried right past Kurt toward the piano, banging out the chords as he sang. "And if you have a minute why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know? Somewhere only we know..." Abandoning the piano, he took Kurt's outstretched hands and tugged him down the stairs, into the waiting line of Warblers.

Kurt wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as each of his friends hugged him, shook his hand warmly, or patted him on the back; so he did a little of each. Finn, grinning in a proud-big-brother way, pulled him into a tight embrace when the others had finished, a silent welcome back into the hearts of New Directions; and a similarly smiling Mercedes embraced him, as well. But when she released him, she left him face-to-face with Blaine, who was still singing, face screwed up with pain.

The moment the last note faded into the air, Blaine's face crumpled still further, and Kurt immediately stepped into his arms. "I'll never say goodbye to you," he choked out, holding him tightly. Blaine pulled away quickly, though, because he knew if he hung around too long, it would kill him to walk away. And with one last, tiny smile, he left his boyfriend back at his old school.

Kurt was surrounded immediately, and Blaine couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder one last time. "No crying, no crying," Tina admonished playfully, settling Kurt's top hat back on his head, and the others piped up variations of the same, folding him back into their circle as if...as if he'd never left.

And this time...Blaine really did walk away.

"Should we...give him a second?" Jeff asked cautiously, watching Blaine trudge slump-shouldered back to the bus.

"I don't know if we even can, though," Wes sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "We can't exactly just hang around here. People are starting to stare."

Jim glanced over his shoulder, too; Kurt was still surrounded by his friends, now hugging a gorgeous, laughing Latina. "Yeah, let's go. But we probably should, like...not be all up in Blaine's space, is all." He, Wes, and David boarded first; and sure enough, Blaine was sitting alone at the very back of the bus, staring blankly into space and apparently noticing absolutely nothing.

"Blainers?" David piped up uncertainly, pausing several rows away from him. "Y'okay?"

"Fine," he replied dazedly, not meeting David's eyes.

They exchanged worried looks (he hadn't even reacted to the nickname, after all) and slipped into the nearest seat. The others filed in on their heels, glanced at their lead soloist, winced and sat down. "Poor Blaine," Nick murmured, scooting closer to Jeff and resting his head on his shoulder.

Jeff hummed in agreement, draping his arm loosely around his boyfriend's waist. "I mean, we'll all miss Kurt, but it must be a million times harder for Blaine." He nuzzled the top of Nick's head lightly. "You're not allowed to transfer out on me, got it?"

Nick lifted his head just enough to meet Jeff's eye and arch a disbelieving eyebrow. "Why the hell would I?"

"Hey, I am just checking," Jeff shot back, teasingly defensive.

"Well, don't worry." He kissed him lightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blaine, luckily, was far back enough that he heard nothing of his friends' words. Still, never had the drive from Lima to Westerville dragged so much; if he were back at Dalton, at least there might be things to distract him. But here on this bus, there was nothing to do but think. More times than he cared to admit, Blaine found himself reaching for his phone to ask Kurt how he was doing, only to give up and return the (horribly silent) device to his pocket. And when they pulled into the parking lot, Blaine heaved a gusty sigh and waited for the rest of the boys to shuffle off before he even bothered to get up.

As he had nowhere else to go, he wandered disinterestedly to his room, where Jim took one look at him and closed his eyes for a long moment. "B, I need you to promise me something."

"Yeah, what?" he asked dully, tossing his blazer and tie carelessly aside.

"Please, for the love of Jesus and all that is holy, _do not _spend forever moping about this."

"I'm not moping."

"Bull_shit_." He raised an eyebrow. "'Sides, you're allowed to for a bit. I mean, Jesus. But eventually you're gonna have to be able to function ya know."

"You're one to talk," he snapped. "You handle stuff like this _so well_."

"I don't need your snark. I'm just trying to help, alright?" He sighed. "Look, I'm going to go. Don't stay in here all day."

* * *

Kurt, meanwhile, was trying desperately to keep himself distracted. It wasn't terribly difficult, as most of his friends seemed to view the fact that he had a free period after lunch as a built-in excuse to ditch class and catch up with him.

"Did you hear about this week's assignment?" Mercedes asked, tipping her head back so he could play with her hair.

"No, actually, I don't remember hearing about it..."

"It's Gaga," she announced, and he accidentally yanked a strand of her hair as he flailed excitedly.

"Is it really? He's letting you do Gaga again?"

"Us, baby," Lauren pointed out, making him jump again, because he _totally _hadn't heard her sneak up behind him. "You're back with us, remember?"

"That's so weird," he mused, carefully braiding Mercedes's hair. "I keep forgetting...it's been months."

"Why would you come back to this shithole?" Puck asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly why.

"For you guys," he said softly, looking up to meet Puck's eyes. "I missed you."

"Us, too," Puck admitted, smiling slightly.

"...hey, where's Rach?" Finn piped up suddenly, glancing around. "She was here, like...a second ago."

"She had a consultation, remember?" Quinn's voice was so chilly that even Kurt drew back slightly.

"Consultation?" he whispered, close to Mercedes's ear to avoid the drama that would inevitably be caused if someone else answered the question. She, at least, would be subtle.

"For her nose. She's considering getting a rhinoplasty." She wrinkled her own nose. "It's all anyone will talk about anymore."

"Because it's ridiculous." Kurt sighed loudly. "I'm guessing everyone's tried to talk her out of it already?"

"Every damn way we could think of." Puck grabbed a chair, flipped it backward, and straddled it, clearly unashamed that he'd been eavesdropping. "I even pulled the Jew card."

_Ah! _"But did you pull the _right _Jew card?"

"...what?"

But Mercedes understood, and she turned, eyes shining. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Barbra?"

"Barbra!" She beamed. "See, this is why we need you. If she'll listen to anyone, it's Barbra."

"I'm still confused," Puck put in, and Kurt smirked.

"I have to fine-tune my plan, but I'll explain as soon as I do. Can someone explain to me why there's a big-ass letter press in the corner of the room?"

Mike launched obligingly into an explanation, and by the time the end of the period came around, Kurt felt almost like he'd never left McKinley at all.

"_I don't know why I'm frightened. I know my way around here. The cardboard trees, the painted seas, the sounds here...Yes, a world to rediscover. But I'm not in any hurry, and I need a moment..."_

The words popped unbidden into his mind as he made his way through the halls, slipping, largely unnoticed, between groups of people. It had been ages since he'd listened to the song, but now it struck him how very appropriate it was.

_"The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways. The atmosphere is thrilling here, as always. Feel the early morning madness, feel the magic in the making...why, everything's as if we never said goodbye."_

He hadn't intended on starting his first glee rehearsal back at McKinley with a solo, but now that he was standing in front of them, with words pouring straight from his heart, he couldn't think of a more appropriate way to return. "I've spent so many mornings just trying to resist you. I'm trembling now," (and he very nearly was, the emotion of being back here was taking over his very being) "you can't know how I've missed you. Missed the fairy tale adventure in this ever-spinning playground. We were young together..."

When the song ended, Kurt brought his hand up to his mouth, finding himself crying and laughing again, simultaneously. The entire room burst into applause, and even Mr. Schuester leapt to his feet to cheer for him. "Kurt, that was beautiful," he said, and then seemed to be at a loss.

Kurt was too busy being pulled into a group hug with all the girls to respond, but if he hadn't been preoccupied, he would have been genuinely grateful for the praise.

* * *

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Blaine murmured, his voice crackling slightly over the line. "How is it over there?"

It was the next evening, and Kurt had decided that he didn't give a damn how long of a day he'd had, he _wanted to talk to his boyfriend. _"Actually...it's really good. I mean, there's this whole drama about Rachel being convinced she needs a nose job, but I think we managed to change her mind for now."

"Wait, she thinks _what_? Why?"

"Finn broke her nose with his dangerous dance moves, and her assface of a doctor decided it'd be fun to make her feel bad about her, erm..._ethnic _schnoz."

Blaine made a disbelieving sound. "That's awful!"

"I know." He shook his head even though he knew Blaine couldn't see him. "So we all gathered in the mall and flash mobbed her with that Barbra Streisand song." A note of pride crept into his voice, and Blaine burst out laughing.

"Your stroke of genius, I assume?"

"You assume correctly, sir."

"_God_, you're adorable."

Kurt couldn't think of anything to respond with besides, "I miss you so much that it physically hurts sometimes," so he just changed the subject; and they only got off the phone when his battery started protesting loudly in his ear.

Still, talking wasn't quite the same as _seeing_. Blaine had devised a whole plan involving asking Kurt on another date- -hopefully one they could go on in the _very _near future- -but his boyfriend was three steps ahead of him. Blaine's phone rang only a few minutes after last period, and he nearly dropped it in his haste to pick it up.

"Kurt?"

"Hi," Kurt said, breathless with laughter whose cause Blaine didn't know, rushing on before Blaine could greet him back. "Do you want to come over tonight? Some of the girls and I are making t-shirts for glee."

Blaine's heart, which had soared at the sound of Kurt's voice, deflated almost as quickly. "I don't want to make you change your plans..."

Kurt made an amused, fondly exasperated sound. "You're not, silly. I called to _invite_ _you_, remember?"

"Is that your dolphin? You should tell him to come hang out with us!" came Brittany's muffled voice, and Blaine cracked a smile despite himself.

"See? It's not just me who wants you to come." He dropped his voice. "Besides, I'm sure we'll be able to sneak off for a little alone time at some point."

Right. Like he was going to be able to say no now. "What time?"

"The girls'll probably just come home with me, so...whenever you can get here?"

"Do you want me to give you guys a little time?" he asked, already crafting his rehearsal-escaping excuse just in case.

"I see more of them than I do of you, now. Does that answer your question?"

He laughed. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Tell the boys I say hi," he replied, the slightest hint of sadness coloring his tone for the first time throughout the conversation. Before Blaine could answer, there was a minor commotion on Kurt's end, and he quickly murmured, "I gotta go, we're starting. See you soon."

"Is he coming?" Brittany whispered the moment Kurt had hung up, bouncing enthusiastically in her seat.

"Yeah, he'll be here," Kurt assured her brightly, beyond delighted at the thought.

Meanwhile, Blaine was halfway through changing out of his uniform before he remembered that he _did _have to deal with the whole rehearsal thing. "Are we doing anything important today?"

"In practice?" Jim asked, not bothering to pretend he hadn't been listening. He made a disparaging sound. "Hell no. We've been ready for this nursing home gig since day one."

"Cool." He dressed as fast as he could and fired off a quick text to Wes. _**give Jeff my parts today? I'm taking a mental health day.**_

_** ...**__I'd yell at you, but I don't feel like it. Why Jeff?_

_**Because he never gets to solo and I feel bad. **_

_Okay. Sure, then. I'll make up some excuse for Thad Have fun with your boy. ;D_

_**...thanks... :)**_

That handled, he blurted, "Gonna go, see you later!" and headed for the door.

Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Noted. I won't wait up."

"Don't be obnoxious," Blaine replied, trying to sound annoyed and failing epically.

There were three extra cars in Kurt's driveway when he pulled up, which he'd been expecting. What he _wasn't _prepared for was the flurry of footsteps that met his knock, nor the way Kurt wrenched the door open and flew out onto the porch to meet him.

"Hi," he greeted Blaine, all but tackling him in a massive hug.

Taken aback, Blaine clung to him happily, swaying back and forth slightly. "Well. Hi, there."

"I barely beat Britt to the door," he laughed, pecking Blaine on the lips.

"Well, I don't have a problem with that kind of hello," he teased, kissing Kurt again, deeper.

"Hey Hummel- -oh. Shit." There was a slam, and Puck retreated again.

"He's keeping Finn company," Kurt explained, blushing slightly as they separated.

"We should probably head in anyway, or the girls will be mad at me for stealing you."

Kurt shrugged, looking as though he wouldn't mind this terribly; still, they _did _go inside. "Britt, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, once they'd walked into his room to find the blonde already bent over the letter-press.

Mercedes winked at both of them, looking highly entertained, and Brittany looked up with a wide smile. "Look, I made a shirt for San!" And she held it out proudly, large black letters spelling it out: **LEBANESE.**

They all knew full well what it was supposed to say, never mind that Santana had never come out to any of them. Mercedes choked on her sip of water; Kurt's eyes widened, and Blaine's eyes slid sideways to catch his gaze questioningly. Kurt shook his head ever-so-slightly. Brittany didn't seem to realize she'd done anything unusual, as she was humming merrily and folding the shirt with an unusual amount of care.

"Hey, does anybody want anything?" Kurt blurted out, figuring that food was probably the quickest and easiest way of changing the subject before things got uncomfortable.

Brittany dropped her bag (which now contained the shirt) immediately. "Kurtie, do you have any Skittles?"

"I think Finn does. I can go look for you." He looked from Blaine to Mercedes. "You guys?"

"If you make popcorn for me, y'all have to help me eat it," Mercedes announced, and Kurt laughed.

"Yes ma'am. I'll be right back."

Mercedes was watching Blaine shrewdly, and it was making him nervous. But all she said was, "You really miss him, don't you?"

He nodded, surprised. "Of course. But he needed to be back here. I understand that." Her expression was unfathomable- -for a second, she looked almost wistful. But just as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

"He really cares about you, y'know." The statement was half warning, as Blaine was well aware.

"He means the world to me," Blaine answered, holding her gaze steadily.

"What does the world _mean_?" Brittany piped up suddenly, sounding faintly puzzled. "Isn't it just a thing?" But before either of them could even try to explain, Kurt reappeared with the food, and she was immediately distracted by her candy.

A few hours later, when Mercedes and Brittany had returned home, Blaine made his own t-shirt.

It read, simply: _**Likes Kurt.**_

**Okay, more things.**

**1. On my tumblr (jesski10 . tumblr . com) you can find the first interaction Jim and Blaine ever had. More Jim backstory prompts/prompts of any kind are always welcome. Or you can just talk to me. :D**

**2. Jim has a tumblr, too. Look up jimethan if you want him. Anon questions are enabled, so you don't need a tumblr to be able to talk to either of us there.**

**3. Thoughts on whether I should write Dalton's prom as well as McKinley's in the Prom Queen chapter are welcome. **

**4. I start school next Thursday, so I might not be around quite as much. Sorry in advance for that. :/**

**I LOVE YOU ALL.**


	20. Really, though?

**I don't even know what to say about this.**

**I'm really sorry for how long it took, though. Also, polls are on my author page, my tumblr name remains jesski10, and Jim's is still jimethan. Talk to us there. :D**

After Dalton, McKinley was a walk in the park. When it came to schoolwork, at least.And, surprisingly, the Bully Whips (_...right, let's just not even comment on the name_) were doing what they'd promised- -he hadn't been slushied once since his return. The problem (aside from missing Blaine, though they did what they could to assuage that with frequent texting and skype dates) was the glee clubbers. He had actually dared to hope that maybe they'd all keep getting along.

Should've known better.

"What the hell is this, dude?" Finn raged, storming into the choir room and heading straight for Sam, hand clenched tightly around a copy of the Muckraker. "'What blondie former cheerleader is having a secret moonlight motel rendezvous with another big-lipped blondie?'"

Sam looked bewildered, and faintly alarmed. "What is- -where does it say that?"

"Right here on the front page of the school newspaper!"

"You don't seriously believe this, do you?" Quinn demanded, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow disapprovingly.

"Well, why shouldn't I? Why wouldn't he do the same thing that I did to him?"

"Because it's gossip, Finn," she snapped, holding his gaze.

It was almost a relief when Santana strode in, shaking the same paper and yelling at Brittany about some ridiculous thing that she'd said on Fondue for Two (Kurt found himself deeply grateful he'd never gotten around to watching it). _Almost_. If nothing else, it gave the other three something else to focus on for a few seconds, and Kurt enough time to process what the _hell _was going on (and make a mental note to have a little chat with Finn later). But that didn't last long, and next thing Kurt knew, Finn was lunging at Sam, shoving him.

"I swear, I'm gonna punch your face off!"

"Hey, you got a lotta nerve accusing me of cheating when you're the one who slunk in and stole my girl!"

Quinn tried to shove her way between them, and Kurt was on the verge of getting up to help (this was so not his style, but he was _not _going to have it on his conscience if she ended up getting hit by a wayward punch or something) when, _finally_, Mr. Schue came hurrying through the door. "Hey, hey!" he hollered, forcing them apart. Immediately, Finn turned on his heel and stalked toward the door. "Hey, Finn, where you goin'? We've got rehearsal!"

"Not today," Finn growled, slamming the door behind him.

_Well. That was sufficiently melodramatic for one day_, Kurt thought wearily, shaking his head. Santana glared at Brittany and flounced away, leaving Brittany to hurry after her. But Kurt stayed, watching the room slowly empty out until the only other person left inside was Sam, who was staring blankly at the door as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

And he wasn't sure how he knew it, but suddenly, Kurt was unequivocally certain that something was genuinely wrong. "Is everything okay, Sam?" he ventured quietly.

He looked around, tried to smile. "I didn't know you were still- -yeah. Fine."

"I don't want to push you, but it might help to talk to someone. And you know I, of all people, won't say anything if you don't want me to." Sam bit his lip and stared at the floor again, and Kurt hurried on. "You don't have to."

"No, wait," he blurted out. "You and Quinn, you're the only ones who kind of know what's going on, and I...I'm just not used to...to having people to talk to about this stuff, I guess." Kurt sat quietly on the piano bench and waited patiently; Sam buried his face in his hands. "Okay. So...so you know how when I delivered that pizza to you, I told you I just got a job because we were having a little money trouble? It's not...not just a little. We- -we lost our house." He broke off, avoiding Kurt's eyes, and Kurt's chest tightened. But he forced himself to keep quiet and let Sam talk. "We sold most of our stuff to try to head it off, but..." he shook his head, "we had to move." His voice trembled when he continued. "That's...that's where those pictures came from. That motel is where we live now."

Kurt put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry. For what happened, and for how everyone's treating you."

"It's not your fault."

"That doesn't matter." He bit his lip. "Look, I know how hard it can be. If you ever need someone to talk to or anything, I'm here for you, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He managed a tight-lipped grin and got to his feet. "I gotta go. I'll see ya."

He wanted to tell Sam how much it meant to him, that out of everyone, _he'd _been one of the few Sam'd confided in. But he couldn't find the right words, so he just smiled back. "See ya."

Sam's situation was the only thing about his return to McKinley that Kurt kept from Blaine. Not that there was anything to hide, because _no_, absolutely not. But when he visited (carrying a massive box of his less flamboyant clothing for Sam), Sam had made him promise not to mention anything. And even though he knew Blaine would never say anything, he wanted to keep that promise. Still, because this was McKinley High, and not a normal school where people _didn't _create extremely detailed rumors designed to ruin people's lives for fun, that resolution went out the window the very next day.

"Stop it."

Convinced this was yet more of Rachel's ridiculous melodrama, Kurt didn't even glance up from his textbook. "Stop what?"

"I'm begging you, Sam is cute, but he's not worth losing Blaine over!" she exclaimed, and he lifted his head slowly.

_Wait, seriously? _"...oh, how I've missed your insanity," he said sarcastically, glaring at her.

"He's wearing your jacket, Kurt! I remember that jacket, you wore it April of last year! You said it was your Earth Day jacket because it was made out of recycled hemp." She drew a deep breath and rambled on. "I know how these things work. I remember when Finn and I used to date, sometimes he would leave his letterman jacket at my house and I would wear it to school the next day- -"

_No, no, fucking _no_. _There was no way she was actually standing here accusing him, genuinely _believing _the crap she was spouting. Would they all believe it? Did they think that little of him? "Okay, you need to bone up on your Fleetwood Mac-ology," he cut in, working to keep his voice calm. "When they made _Rumours_, they weren't speaking to each other. Not even 'pass the non-dairy creamer.' They only spoke about the music. And it was that focus thatallowed them to make their masterpiece."

"You're deflecting," she accused lowly.

"No, I'm being a team player," he snapped. "And any minute spent on this vicious, hateful and hurtful gossip is a minute taking away from preparing for Nationals." And he stalked angrily away.

When he saw Mercedes several yards away, standing at her locker, he let out a relieved breath. "Cedes, you will never believe what Rachel just said to me."

She shut her locker with a clang and whirled to face him. "Does it involve Sam?"

That brought him up short. "Well, yeah. How did you- -"

"It's all over the Muckraker. With pictures." She arched an eyebrow. "A motel, Kurt? Really?"

"Wait, you don't actually _believe _it, do you?"

"You have to admit, it looks pretty sketchy."

"Mercedes, it only looks 'sketchy' if you are _searching _for some stupid scandal!"

"So what were you guys doing there, then?"

"Are you even- -I'm not going to tell you that." He wished he had some of the composure he'd managed to cling to when he was talking to Rachel, but it was all but gone. This was Mercedes. This was his _best friend_, and she wouldn't even listen to him.

"Why not? I'm your best friend!"

The anger rose white-hot within him, but he forced it back. "Which is exactly why you shouldn't have to ask." And, again, he walked away and left her alone.

None of his other friends were quite as forward as Mercedes had been, but it was clear by the strange looks he was getting that they believed it. Especially Finn. He looked...wounded or something. As though Kurt was cheating on _him, _which was possibly the most ridiculous thing ever. He texted Blaine from glee rehearsal, desperate for some sanity. _**Please tell me you're not busy later.**_

The answer came almost immediately. _I'm not. Are you okay?_

He debated, and decided it wasn't worth getting into over text message. _**Just want to see you. :)**_

_In that case, sounds awesome. :D_

The promise of seeing his boyfriend in a few short hours made everything infinitely easier to bear, and before long, he was walking up to Blaine's door. "I was just conveniently on my way out!" Jim exclaimed, opening the door for him and breezing past; Blaine laughed, clearly exasperated.

"I missed you," he murmured, once Kurt was safely inside, kissing him soundly on the lips.

"God, I missed you too."

They perched on the edge of Blaine's bed, and Kurt settled quickly back into the routine. He'd forgotten how much he'd loved this- -sitting together and sharing stories about their days. But with each casual anecdote, the thing that mattered pressed more and more heavily on him, and finally blurted out, "They think I'm cheating on you." What if Blaine reacted like Mercedes had? What if he- -

Blaine did a double-take. "_Who _thinks that?"

"Everyone. The whole damn glee club." He looked down, toying with the cuff of Blaine's long-sleeved t-shirt. "Except Quinn and Sam."

"Why do they think that?" he asked calmly, flipping his hand over and intertwining their fingers.

"Because." Looking tormented, Kurt leaned over, pressing his forehead against Blaine's shoulder. "You have to promise you won't say anything. I promised I wouldn't tell."

"Of course I won't. Hey." He gently nuzzled the top of Kurt's head. "I trust you, you know. And you can trust me."

When Kurt looked at him, his eyes were rimmed with red. "Thank you."

"Did you really think I'd believe them over you, hon?" The endearment slipped out, but it made Kurt smile, so Blaine didn't particularly mind.

"Not really. But I didn't expect all my friends to believe it, either. I mean, Sam's not even gay." He shook his head hard. "Besides, why would they think I'd do that, even if he was? _That_'s the part that's killing me."

Blaine spluttered. "Wait. Sam? They think you're- -with _Sam?_"

"Yeah." The realization that Blaine wasn't going to turn against him like the others was even more comforting than he'd thought it would have been. "They're convinced he's screwing me _and _Quinn when actually, we're just trying to help him."

"Is he okay?" Blaine asked worriedly, now rubbing his thumb soothingly over the side of Kurt's palm.

"Remember how we got pizza a few days before I left, and I told you Sam was the delivery guy?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I didn't think too much of it until the other day in glee club when Finn started accusing Sam of going behind his back with Quinn at some motel. He seemed really upset, so I hung back to talk to him, and he told me that he and his family lost their house, because his father let go. They've been living at that motel, and Quinn's been going by to babysit and stuff."

"Oh my God," Blaine breathed, "that's awful."

"So I went by the other day, too, to bring him some clothes and stuff. I guess somebody saw him walking me out and decided it would be fun to start _that _rumor, too."

"It shouldn't matter what other people say!" Blaine burst out angrily. "God, Kurt, I'm sorry, because know they're your friends, but sometimes they can be so _catty_. I can't believe they'd just...believe some random reporter over you guys!"

Kurt squirmed slightly; it felt amazing to be vindicated, and he knew Blaine was speaking the truth, but...well, _still_. They _were _his friends, no matter how obnoxious they were being at the moment. "Can we change the subject?"

Blaine opened his mouth to object, but one look at his boyfriend was enough to change his mind. Kurt looked pale, and his hands were shaking slightly- -this was clearly getting to him. "Of course," he agreed instead. "Everything else is okay?"

"More than. I haven't gotten slushied once, and they barely even look at me now."

"Good," he whispered, and slid down so that he was lying flat on his bed. "I guess they've finally learned to act like human beings."

"Looks that way." He grinned. "I try not to be too optimistic about it, though."

Blaine didn't say anything; wasn't really sure what to say. So instead, he patted the space next to him, looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes. "Lay with me?"

Kurt's heart thundered wildly as he complied, rolling onto his side so he could look at Blaine. "Hi," he whispered, pushing the ungelled hair off his forehead.

"Hi there," Blaine murmured, playfully bumping his nose against Kurt's.

"I like when you wear your hair like this." He scooted closer still, a soft smile curving his lips.

"Why d'you think I did it?" Blaine murmured, and closed the miniscule distance between them.

"Because you're the best," Kurt managed breathlessly when they'd broken apart, and nipped Blaine's lower lip teasingly.

"Damn right," he grinned, eyes sparkling.

"I'm coming in," Jim yelled suddenly, from just outside. "I repeat, I am _coming in_."

"We get it, thanks," Blaine called dryly. "You go right ahead and do that."

Blushing, Kurt rolled onto his back, effectively throwing off Blaine's arm. He knew Jim was still going to know what they'd been doing, but it was instinct.

"Sorry. Forgot my phone," Jim announced, pointedly not looking toward Blaine's side of the room.

"It's okay," Kurt offered, because he figured someone should say something.

"Kay-bye-use-protection!" he blurted out, all in one breath, and made a break for the door.

Blaine grabbed a hoodie off the footboard and hurled it after him; he just laughed and slammed the door. "Hey, you wanna go get some food?"

Kurt was feeling kind of warm and sleepy and more content than he had all week, but he had also forgotten to eat. "Kay," he yawned, and then ruined it by snuggling up with his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine chuckled quietly, running his fingers through Kurt's hair (a feat which would have earned anyone else a monster glare). "Hey, sleepy, I'm not carrying you."

"How would you, anyway? I'm taller than you," Kurt pointed out playfully.

"Oh, that is _it_, Hummel," he growled, climbing over him and getting off the bed.

Kurt's eyes popped open in alarmed amusement. "What? No, where are you going?"

"I am proving a point," he sniffed haughtily. "Bend your knees." Kurt obeyed, blushing (Santana and Puck could make anything dirty) and laughing.

"Are you insane?"

"No, for your information, I am extremely manly."

Kurt just snickered and allowed his boyfriend to wrap Kurt's arms around his neck. "This isn't going to work, you know." (If he'd been thinking about it, he'd have realized that this was yet another first that Blaine had become for him: the first person he trusted enough to do this without a second thought- -because Cheerios _so _didn't count.)

"Shush, you," Blaine ordered good-naturedly, carefully bracing Kurt's upper back and sweeping the other arm up under his knees. "Prepare to be swept off your feet in three...two..." And he promptly heaved Kurt into his arms. Letting out an embarrassingly high squeak, Kurt tightened his grip.

"I was _not _expecting that."

"You have no faith in me." Pouting, he trailed little kisses over Kurt's forehead and down his nose. "I'm offended."

"If you react this way every time you're offended, I may have to do it more often." Blaine dipped him playfully, and he yelped. "Never mind, I'm sorry! I will never again question your masculinity!"

"You better not." He smirked, then looked at the door. "...you're gonna have to open that."

He ended up carrying Kurt all the way out to the car, where he deposited him rather gracelessly into the passenger seat. "Okay, where are we going?"

"Wherever you want," Kurt replied, still grinning as he attempted to straighten his clothes.

No question, it was the best evening he'd had all week.

* * *

By the next day, he was trying to remind himself of why he'd come back to McKinley. With the lingering backlash from Jacob's stupid Sam article, the fact that Sam wasn't even in school (which he understood, but which only fueled the gossip mill), and all the tension amidst his friends, being here wasn't exactly a ball of laughs. He slunk to glee that afternoon wondering if it was at all conceivable for him to go visit Blaine two evenings in a row- -somehow, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to pull it off.

He was pulled from his musings by Quinn leaping to her feet and announcing, "Finn and I put something together," and all but dragging him to the middle of the room. They both looked angry, and their rendition of 'I Don't Wanna Know' only underscored the obvious tension between them.

"Okay...terrific job, guys. Um...might wanna try to smile a little more, is all," Schue commented awkwardly, trying to smile. Quinn complied, and Kurt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Maybe if no one else has anything to sing I'll be able to get out of here early..._

"Yeah, it was lovely, but...I prefer Quinn's duet performance of 'Lucky' with Sam better," Rachel put in, and then, with the slightest of smug edges to her voice, "Since you and Sam have become a lot closer lately, maybe you guys should do duets together more often."

_...or maybe I won't._

"Where _is_ Sam? Quinn and Kurt are both here today, so we know he's not doing the dirty," Artie added matter-of-factly. Everyone ignored him, and Kurt couldn't help but be grateful when Quinn steamrolled on.

"I know what you're doing. You want Finn and I to stop singing together so that you can start singing with him again."

"Frankly, yes..."

The argument continued; Kurt slipped his phone out of his pocket and covertly texted Blaine. _**Quinn and Rachel are at it again. Make it stoooop.**_

"Quinn. I don't think you can mandate who pairs up for Nationals, alright? Vocal Adrenaline doesn't need any help from us."

**Ah, no, are they really? I'm sorry. :( At least you've got me to distract you? ;D**

_**Thank God. I wish you were here...this would all be kind of laughable if you were.**_

**I wish I were, too. And the rest of this week's going to be kind of crazy. Want to do something this weekend?**

_**...do I ever tell you no? **_

**Hey, I'm just checking! I'll call you later.**

_**Looking forward to it.**_

He slid his phone away, carefully maintaining his poker face, just in time to see the Fuinn argument reach its conclusion.

"I love being here, and I wanna win. But my relationship comes first. I'm sorry, but Finn...if you wanna be with me, no more songs with her."

Finn stared at her, clearly astonished. "..._what_?"

She just raised her eyebrows, then stalked away.

* * *

"Blaine, hi," Kurt breathed, flopping onto his bed with a relieved sigh.

"Hey, you." He grinned widely. "I missed hearing your voice."

"Cheesy," Kurt teased, even though it was true on his end, too. "I just talked to you yesterday."

"So you didn't miss me, then?"

"Of course I did," Kurt backpedaled, his grin so wide that it was actually hurting his cheeks. "Also, you're sane. I miss your sanity, too."

"Mmm." He sucked in a sympathetic breath. "It hasn't gotten any better?"

"I...that kind of depends on your definition of better," Kurt muttered. "Now there's even more drama with Rachel and Finn, so that's taking people's minds off the whole Sam situation somewhat." Artie's words echoed in his mind, and he winced reflexively. "Not enough, though."

"Do you want to talk about it, or shall I distract you?"

"Oh, by all means, distract me. Please."

"Hmm, how?"

"Oh, God, I don't know. Tell me about your life?"

"Nothing interesting's happening, really. I told you most of it yester- -oh! I gave Jeff my solos for that nursing home show."

Kurt nearly choked on his own tongue. "You did _what? _Why?"

"I don't feel much like singing," Blaine sighed. "Besides, it's like you used to say, when you went here. He tries so hard, and we've never really let him solo."

He grinned. Blaine really was perfect for him. It was still kind of hard to believe that this was even real most of the time. But... "What do you mean, you don't feel like singing? Are you okay?"

But Blaine hadn't meant to admit as much, and the last thing he wanted was for Kurt to know that since he'd transferred, he'd taken a lot of the life out of Dalton for Blaine, too. When he had first transferred, the zero-tolerance bullying policy had been such a relief to him that he hadn't even thought about whether the school was really a good fit for his personality- -and maybe back then, it was perfect. But now...now that Kurt had burst into his life, all light and confidence and unashamed _joie de vivre_...maybe it wasn't. But he didn't know what to do about it. Public school wasn't an option either- -he'd avoided it this long, and the idea of going back was positively terrifying.

"Blaine? Are you there?"

"I'm here, sorry. I...thought Wes was knocking," he improvised.

"...so everything's okay?" Kurt continued skeptically.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I've just got a lot of stuff to do, and I feel like headlining the entire program would be a little too much." It was the first time he'd ever lied to Kurt, and he knew it wasn't particularly convincing. But Kurt didn't call him on it; he just sat there, quietly, waiting for Blaine to say something else. "I'll sing to you, though. If you want me to."

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

And though Kurt was kind of tempted to press Blaine further, and find out what was really going on, he was fairly certain he didn't have the energy that it would take to wheedle the truth out of him. "Sure."

They ended up staying up all hours of the night, singing random songs to each other; and even though Kurt knew he'd regret the near all-nighter when he was forced to confront the madness of McKinley again, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Even glee club seemed infinitely brighter at the beginning, though whether that was because he had the memory of singing 'A Whole New World' with Blaine at three in the morning to keep him sane, or because things seemed to be calming down slightly, he wasn't sure. Either way, it allowed him to truly enjoy Rachel's performance of 'Go Your Own Way,' and he could even ignore how very obviously dedicated to Finn said performance was. He clapped enthusiastically with the others when she had finished, smiling widely; and then Quinn cleared her throat.

"Don't you think it's a little inappropriate that you chose to sing a love song to _my _guy?" she demanded, and the cheeriness in the atmosphere died immediately.

But Rachel, clearly, was past the point of caring. "You're such a hypocrite, you little miss perfect prom queen- -you're a cheater who cheats in cheap motels with Sam," she shrieked, stabbing her finger accusingly at Quinn.

"Nothing is going on between Sam and I!"

"Enough, guys." Schuester snapped, sounding exhausted; but for all the attention everyone paid to him, he may as well not have spoken.

"You know, I blame Sam for all of this," Santana put in. "Rachel, too. I blame her."

"What did I do?"

"I'm sure you did something."

"See, I'm with Santana. I mean, why doesn't Sam have anything to say about this?" Lauren put in, nodding impressively.

And there went the contentment that had been hanging around all day. Kurt clenched his teeth, trying to force back his frustration. Was it so hard for these people to consider anyone other than themselves? _Maybe because he knows how we all are when we latch onto things. Maybe because he's ashamed, or he's afraid that talking about it will make it more real. It's not as though we can't understand having something in our lives that we don't want to talk about._

"Guilt."

"Seriously, dude, what you're doing is not cool. They both have boyfriends!" Puck added (which, really, would have been sort of humorous, given the whole Finn/Quinn/Puck debacle from the previous year, if it wasn't so frustrating).

"_Shut up!" _Sam bellowed, before Kurt could decide whether it would help or hurt for him to get involved in the conversation._ "_Look, I'm not messing around with Quinn, or Kurt, or any one of those guys. They're just helping me!" Except _oh. _He was actually going to _admit_...Kurt leaned forward and opened his mouth, his thoughts only half articulated. All he knew was that it wasn't fair to Sam, what was happening. And he shouldn't have to reveal his secret this way.

But before he could speak, Mercedes interjected, "Oh, is _that _what we're calling it now?"

"Come on!" Will snapped, silencing the rest at last. "How are they helping you out?"

Sam's eyes fluttered briefly closed, and he muttered, "Kurt was bringing me some clothes, and Quinn was helping me babysit my little brother and sister."

"Then why were you in that motel?" Finn demanded skeptically.

"Because that's where I live now! My dad lost his job a few months ago, and then we lost our house, so now we live in a motel, in one room." He leapt to his feet, pain written all over his face. "Are you all happy? The truth's finally out."

A stunned silence fell over the room as Sam hurried from the room. Quinn glared around at everyone for a moment, then jogged after him.

Kurt slumped down in his seat, already reflexively reaching for his phone to fill Blaine in; but before he could free it from his pocket, Mercedes had turned and put a gentle hand on his knee. "Baby, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "We should've believed you."

He was half tempted to freeze her out, but it was _tiring _being angry all the time. Besides, he missed her. "_I'm _fine," he muttered back. "I'm more worried about Sam than myself, personally."

"I was just thinking about that," Rachel said, voice small. "What if we...we did something for him? To apologize?"

"Like what?"

"Well...well I was actually thinking maybe you could help with that. Because you've been spending a lot of time with him, right? So you kind of...know what he's been going through?"

"Since it's not me going through it, I don't try to convince myself I know how it feels," he replied coolly, and she flinched.

"I- -I just meant..." But whatever she meant, she couldn't find the words to express it properly, and she faltered and shook her head.

"We fucked up," Puck piped in. "And we want to fix it. We're just not sure how."

"Right." He sighed. "Well, I don't know how much we can do, really. It's not like we can buy his house back for him."

"Oh!" Puck's eyes widened suddenly. "Maybe we can't do that, but...I don't know, maybe it's stupid, but, like, music makes us all feel better, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Rachel furrowed her brow. "So what? He probably doesn't want to come back, after how we treated him."

"Right, but...okay, so the other day I was just jammin' with Artie, right? And he passed by, so we asked him if he wanted to join in, but he said he didn't have his guitar..."

"...and we didn't think of it, but maybe he had to sell it!" Artie exclaimed. "Jeez, I'd be wrecked if I had to sell his guitar."

"What if we pooled a bunch of money and bought it back for him?" Finn added excitedly, and Puck nodded.

"That's kinda what I was getting at, dude."

And as his friends burst into a frenzy of planning around him, Kurt allowed himself to smile. As self absorbed as they could sometimes be...God, they were amazing.

**CHEESY.**

**I AM SO SORRY.**


End file.
